A Little Corner of Nowhere
by Sadesco
Summary: Part 4 of the War Stories Saga. Dean and Hannah arrange a meeting that takes them on an unplanned hunt, while Sam must make some hard decisions about his future. DWOC  Rated MA for Language and Strong Adult Content
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**312-Days**

**Kirkville, Missouri – 11:23am**

Hannah heard the ringing of her phone like a distant cry. Her mind had been wondering as she stared out into the woods, but her attention was drawn back to the instant cry of the phone. She moved over to it slowly and picked it up off.

"Hello?"

"Miss Riordan? This is Chester Wilks."

"Hello Mr Wilks" said Hannah, amazed at the flatness of her own voice "How are you?"

"I'm good." replied the jovial older man on the other side of the phone "Real good in fact."

"That's good to hear." replied Hannah almost on autopilot.

"I've had a look at those plans that you bought down to the workshop and they are really something else."

"I was very impressed with them myself." said Hannah with a slight smile touching her lips.

"I'm glad Jack sent you to me, because this is certainly one for the books."

"Mr Casey assured me that you were the best gun smith for this job, although I must stress again the need for discretion. Despite what you might think Mr Wilks, museum acquisition can be a very competitive business."

"Oh no Ma'am." said the man quickly "I completely understand. I know a dozen antique armourers who would kill to get their hands on these plans."

"Can you make up the guns and rounds based on those plans?"

"Absolutely Miss Riordan, I may be a locksmith by day, but replica guns are my passion. I'm just a little bit confused though, you mentioned when we spoke that you wanted these to be fashioned exactly as they were specified in these plans."

"That's correct."

"We'll it wouldn't be right if I didn't tell you that I could probably produce these in half the time and at half the expense if we updated some of the components to more modern materials."

Hannah smiled again to herself "I do understand that Mr Wilks, but we are trying to preserve historical fact here and there is no room for me to take any shortcuts."

"No I guess not" said the man and despite his words Hannah sensed that he was pleased to have the challenge to build these as they had centuries ago.

"I really need to stress Mr Wilks about the importance of adhering to the plans."

"I assume that you are referring to all the instructions about dipping the molten gun in holy water and getting a priest in to bless the smelting iron before it's poured, that sort of thing?"

"That's right Mr Wilks. I need your guarantee that the manufacture of these guns will be exactly as it is laid out in the plans."

"Of course." said the man, and Hannah could feel that while he didn't understand why, he was honourable enough to keep to his word.

"Now let's discuss payment and delivery." said Hannah, picking up from the man that he was tentative to bring up the issue of money.

"Well, three guns with a classic manufacture like this will probably cost you, eight or nine thousand dollars…but that's materials and labour." Qualified the man quickly, thinking that she would likely baulk at the price.

"And how long would that take?" Hannah asked evenly.

"With this kind of old school manufacture, I'd say two months, maybe a bit longer. Unfortunately this isn't my primary business."

"Mr Wilks, if you can deliver these guns earlier, I can offer you fifteen thousand for your efforts."

The man almost spluttered on the other end of the phone. This was a significant sum for a gun smith who did it as a hobby out of his basement.

"Now, the museum will only allow me to sign off on such expenditure once I have proof of your workmanship. Mr Casey has assured me that your workmanship was the best he had ever seen, and I believe him, but unfortunately I will need more than that for the benefactor who is funding this exhibit."

"Sure" said the older man on the phone, feeling like he was suddenly a little fish in a very big pond.

"How long do you think it would take to manufacturer say a dozen bullets?"

"To be honest I could cast those bullets in a weekend, but with all of that additional etching on them, it would probably take me a week, ten days maybe."

Hannah was silent for a moment while she thought. "What I propose is this. If I bring two thousand dollars down to your office, let's call it a retainer if you like and you produce for me a dozen bullets, I'll then send them back to the museum and assuming everyone is satisfied, we can continue on then to the revolvers. Does that sound reasonable to you Mr Wilks?"

"Miss Riordan that sounds more than fair" said the older man in awe "I'm just thrilled that someone is prepared to pay me to do the very thing that I love."

Hannah smiled at the genuine joy she felt from the man. I had been a long time since she had felt his kind of elation and it went a long way to soothing her.

"I'm pleased that we could do business." She said "I'll come down to your workshop this afternoon to drop in the money."

"I'll look forward to seeing you then." And with that the man was gone.

Hannah smiled as she put down the phone. She was glad that the Colt historian that she had found had sent her here. Kirkville was only a small town with small town sensibilities, but it was located near the beautiful Thousand Hills national park where she was able to rent a small cottage right near the edge of the woods.

Hannah had needed the solitude that Kirkville could provide. Since leaving the hospital in Denver, her body had recovered but her abilities had gone particularly haywire. Presently she couldn't seem to shield herself from anything, which made being around people almost agonising.

Even more disturbing than the emotions of the living were those of the dead. Hannah had the ability to be a strong medium, but not the inclination. Of all her skills it was an ability that she tried to suppress very early on. She wasn't always successful, but she worked very hard to block them all out.

Unlike what the television shows portrayed, being a medium was a constant assault on the senses. The long time dead that still hung around were filled with anger and could often be violent as soon as the realised they could be heard. The recently dead were often confused and pleaded for some form of assistance that no one could provide.

Just getting here had been a nightmare, every hospital, every cemetery even just some random places in the earth acted as hubs for the spirits of the dead and as she passed them, they would ascend upon her.

She had come across the cottage quite by accident, and had been relieved that there was nothing laying dormant waiting for her. She had scrawled Tibetan wards in chalk over all of the doors and windows and the cottage had become a sanctuary, right when she believed that she was truly going mad.

She had been here for three days now, and she could feel herself getting stronger, but her mind was still like an open wound, exposed to the elements. She prayed that this situation was only temporary. As it was she could really only stand to be around people for a few minutes at a time. If this was how her existence would now be defined, then she would be next to useless in the war effort.

Thinking about the war, made her wonder what was going on with Dean. She had texted him a few times, just to update him and let him know that she was alright, but she hadn't spoken to him yet. She knew that she would have to, but since the events of a fortnight ago, she wasn't sure if she could safely do so. The connection that had been forged between her and Dean in the woods of Patterson was strong at the best of times, without anything to protect her, Hannah was afraid it would be all consuming.

* * *

**Pinon, Arizona – 9:32am**

Dean sat in the car, watching as Sam ordered them coffee from the coffee shop over the road. When his phone buzzed to life, he snatched it up, but when he saw Bobby's caller ID flash up, he couldn't help the wave of disappointment that filled him.

"Hey Bobby, what you got for me?"

"You boys look like you have found yourselves a Tlahuelpuchi."

"Say that again?" baulked Dean as he went over the foreign sounding word in his mind.

" A Tlahuelpuchi. It's a variant type of vampiric creature. It's human, or at least it comes from a human family, but it is said to be cursed to feed off blood. The way the curse goes, the family will protect it or they risk the curse falling on to either themselve of one of their children."

"Please tell me that to kill it we don't have to say it's name three times aloud or anything."

Bobby laughted slightly "No, nothing like that, but its not too partial to metal, so some well placed iron rounds will probably do the trick. The hard part is finding it, the mythology says that it has the ability to shapeshift into any animal but it tends to favour birds. It will select its victims by flying in a cross pattern over their homes."

"Great so we'll just have to stake out Pinon watching for signs of any suspiciously flying birds." Muttered Dean

"Hey it could be worse." complained Boby "You could be here with me exorcising twin girls."

"So how's that working out for you?" question Dean feeling suddenly serious.

"Linda Blaire had nothing on these two. I need eyes in the back of my damn head."

"You handeling that alone?" asked Dean watching Sam through the shop window across the street.

"No" said Bobby in a practical tone "I bought in a Jesuit friend of mine, mutch better at Latin than me."

"That's good." said Dean feeling suddenly releived that Bobby had help with him.

"How you two fairing after Reno anyhow?" asked Bobby and Dean was surprised at his conversational mood.

"Alright I guess." said Dean on a sigh "Sam's gone back to being real quiet though. Something's going on in that brain of his, but he's just not sharing it with me."

"Well my sources say that Thammuz was a significant player, you boys did well fighting him off by yourselves. Maybe he's just recovering"

"We didn't exactly do it alone" replied Dean, as thoughts of the Doc filled him with regret.

"That's right, you said your doctor friend helped out." said Bobby and his tone was a little too knowing.

"Yeah" said Dean "It put her in the hospital."

"Well she's alright now though isn't she?"

"I don't know" confessed Dean "I haven't really spoken to her."

Bobby made a strange clicking sound on the other end of the phone "Women!" he lamneted in a meladromatic way, which Dean couldn't help but smile at. "Oh shit, I better go. Looks like were having pea soup for lunch again."

"Take it easy." called Dean as he heard Bobby hurriedly hang up the phone.

Dean spotted Sam jogging across the street with two coffees in his hand, so he leaned over and pulled the leaver of the door to let his brother in. Sam slid into the passengers seat, handing one of the cups to Dean.

"Who was that?" he asked nodding slightly towards the phone in Dean's hand.

"Bobby" replied Dean, peeling the lid off the coffee and blowing on the contents "He thinks we have a Tahulapuke."

Sam's brows rose high into on his forehead "A what?"

"Yeah that's what I said." replied Dean taking a long draw from his coffee. "Oh my god that's good."

Dean savoured the flavour for a few moements before he continued. "Aparently it is some sort of vampiric creature that lives off the blood of children, he said that the legend said it was some sort of curse, but that the creature was actually born to a human family who will probably try and protect it."

"I don't know about you." Said Sam taking a long sip from his own coffee "But I am really getting sick of evil shit that feeds off children. Why are there never any demons or ghosts that feed off rapists or serial killers or anything like that. It's always children and kittens and puppies."

Dean smiled over the brim of his cup as his brother's diatribe "Children and kittens and puppies?"

"You know what I mean." replied Sam agitatedly

"Yeah I do." Conceeded Dean, but his smile didn't fade.

"So how do we kill it?"asked Sam

"Boby thinks shooting it will probably do."

"Really" said Sam a look of surprise on his face "No magic words, no special ritual? That's a change."

"Yeah, but first we have to find it and here's the kicker…it can shape shift into any animal."

Sam sighed audibly "It can never be easy can it?"

As Dean smiled at his brother, his phone sprang to life where it sat in his lap. He juggled his coffe over to his other hand and flipped it open to answer it.

"Hello"

"Hello Dean. How are you?"

Dean almost couldn't breath as he heard those words on the other end of the phone. After two weeks she had finally called. After Reno, Dean had begged Sam to got to Denver, but Adam had let them know that the Doc was already on the move, so Dean had let it drop.

He had tried calling her at least once or twice a day since, but the only news that he every seemed to receive was either through her clipped text messages or through Adam. He knew that Adam was more concerned about Hannah than he was letting on and that had made Dean all the more worried, but he was beginning to think that the Doc would never forgive him for what he did in Reno.

"Doc! He replied when he could finally speak "How are you?"

Dean's eye met Sam's and his brother gave him a hard stare before opening his door and slipping out to lean on the bonnet of the Impala. Dean watched his brother leave, but he was more concerned about the woman on the other end of the phone.

"I'm getting better, thanks." She replied stiffly

'I tried calling Doc" Dean stammered "I wanted to apologise. I never meant for you to get hurt."

"It's alright" she said quietly, but he felt like she was holding something back. She was not as easy with him, as some of their earlier conversations. In fact she sounded positevly rigid.

"You did what you thought you had to."

"I should have waited for you." said Dean. He had wanted so desperately to speak to her, but now that he was he was somewhat at a loss for words.

"I doesn't matter now." She said in a business like manner. "How's Sam?"

"He's fine." said Dean, not wanting to divulge anything more with his brother just outside.

"I'm glad" said Hannah, and it was perhaps the first genuine emotion that he had heard from her. His heart felt sore, the only emotioin that he could elicit from her was for his brother. He cursed himself for a fool as a long silence stretched out between them.

"Where are you Doc?" Dean finally asked.

"A small town in Missouri" she replied "You?'

"We're on a hunt in Arizona."

"Demon?" she questioned flatly

"No" he said finally smiling "Some creature who's name I can't pronouce."

"I've found a gun smith who says he can make you some rounds for your colt." the Doc said abruptly and Dean wasn't sure if he was more surprise by her abrupt change in topic or her actual statement.

"Really?"

"Yes" she responded "He thinks he can have them finished in a week or so."

"That's fantastic" said Dean but his tone didn't reflect his enthusiasm. Something was so not right between them and he wasn't sure how to make it right. He'd be more comfortable if she yelled and screamed at him. At least then he felt he could probably deal with, but this flat even tone felt almost more like indifference, and that was a hell of a lot worse than anger.

"I thought that closer to the time I'd find out where you were and courier them to you."

"Well, why don't we meet up and you can give them to us then."

Dean held his breath as there was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

"I'd really like to see you Doc." Dean said quietly, putting everything he felt behind those words.

"Alright" the Doc said quietly "I'll call you in about a week and we can settle on somewhere."

"Great" replied Dean feeling relief flood through him.

"Take care of yourself and Sam." said the Doc and without another word she was gone.

Dean looked at his phone, still blinking slightly. That hadn't gone exactly as he had hoped, but atleast now he had spoken to her. As Dean closed his phone and slid it back into his pocket, Sam eased silently into the passengers side of the Impala.

Dean looked at his brother still slightly shelshocked, but Sam was resolutely ingnoring him, so rolling his eyes slighty, he started the car and pulled off down the street.

* * *

**Kirkville, Missouri – 11:36am**

Hannah sat on the small sofa in the cottage, rubbing at her chest. Her chest actually hurt under the pressure of all of Dean's competeing emotions. She was sorry that they had to have such a short conversation, but she couldn't have handled much more from him. How did any one human being survive with that many emotions rolling around in their body.

She had felt all of his emotions so intensly that her body, not knowing how to process them, had turned them into physical responses. His confusion had made her feel nauseous, his relief at hearing from her had made it hard for her to breath and his guilt had made her heart achein her very chest. The thing that had surprised her the most was the longing that he felt. He really did miss her and inspite of everything, she couldn't help but find that endearing.

She only prayed that when it was time for her to meet up with them, that she could sheild herself a little better. If she couldn't, the meeting migt actually kill her.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**303-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 8:53**

Sam leaned against the door frame of the hotel room that he and Dean shared and watched the Impala speed out of the car park. Dean had invited him along to meet up with the Doc but Sam had declined. He still didn't trust that woman, for reasons which he couldn't even articulate. There was something about her, something that just felt off to Sam. Dean couldn't feel it, but Sam had a slightly different perspective than his brother.

In spite of the fact that he had already showered and dressed for the day, Sam lay back down on his unmade bed and reached for his mother as he closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him.

Mary Winchester sat on the bottom step where Sam had left her only an hour or so before. The labyrinthine staircases and the pointless corridors and rooms had become a sanctuary for Sam, all because of the woman who sat on the step smiling up at her son.

"Back so soon?" questioned Mary with a gentle smile.

"Yeah" said Sam on a sigh and sat down next to his mother, jostling her affectionately with his much larger frame. "I missed you."

"Awwww!" teased Mary cupping Sam's cheek in her palm "My big bad boy, missed his mommy."

Sam smiled ruefully at her and snickered in spite of himself.

"So your brother has gone?" asked Mary looking suddenly serious.

"He asked me along, but I just couldn't do it."

Mary leant slightly forward to try and capture her son's eye. "Why is that?"

"I don't know?" sighed Sam "I want to be supportive of Dean and the way he feels, but I just don't trust her. I don't Mom I can't explain it."

"Do you think she means Dean harm?" asked Mary sounding suddenly concerned.

"No, I don't think so." said Sam rubbing a hand over his chin and allowing his morning whiskers to scratch against his palm "I mean if she did then she certainly had plenty of opportunity, but she always seems to keep helping him out."

"Perhaps that's a way for her to earn his trust?" suggested Mary

"Dean trusts her." said Sam without hesitation "That's not her goal."

"Then what do you think it might be?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm just paranoid." confessed Sam, hearing the weariness in his own voice.

"Don't do that Sam." Said Mary Winchester resolutely "Don't downplay what you feel. You have good instincts like your father…you should listen to them. If there is something not right about this girl, then you need to find out what it is."

Sam looked at his mother for a long time, noting the genuine concern on her face.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to Dean Mom, I promise."

Mary smiled at her son's heart felt vow and patted him on the leg.

"I know honey." She said quietly "I know."

* * *

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 9:09am**

Dean sat in the diner, playing with the handle on his coffee mug. The waitress swung by and held up the pot in her hand to check if he wanted a refill, but Dean smiled at her but shook his head. Nine days, he had been living with the prospect of meeting up with the Doc again for the last nine days, and now that it was imminent he suddenly was more nervous than he could ever remember being in his entire life.

The hunt in Arizona, seemed to pass with almost ludicrous slowness, but they had finally managed to track the Tlahuelpuchi down and kill it. The whole time, Dean had been consumed by thoughts of this meeting, he had played it over and over in his head, practising what he might say to her, how he might apologise to her for the way she had been dragged into their Reno hunt. In some versions, she would slap his face, in others she would spit out some rejection and storm out, while in others she would smile warmly at him, just like she had back at the cottage.

Everytime the small bell over the door would chime, Dean's heart leapt to his throat, but every time it wasn't the Doc he had to battle to quell the growing sense of panic that she wasn't coming. He had arrive early and taken a seat, but he wondered now whether that was such a good idea. The ultnernative had been equally unappealing, he could have waited for longer at the hotel and risked he and Sam killing each other.

Sam had been trying to not be disaproving of this meeting, but it seemed to radiate of him. His eyes would get hard everytime Dean bought up the Doc. He wasn't even excited when Dean had told him about the new rounds for the colt. All Sam could seem to say was "Be sure you test them before you bet your life on them."Although how one tested a demon killing gun without a demon to shoot Dean didn't know, but he had let that and a thousand other warnings that Sam had offered him slide.

The Doc didn't seem to take offence at Sam's mistrust, but Dean certainly did on her behalf. He couldn't understand his brother's dislike of the woman, a dislike that seemed to be growing inspite of all the ways that she had helped them out. Dean had always vowed that he would never let a woman come between he and his family, but it was easy to make those kind of vows when there was no woman on the horizon who could potentially put him in the position where he had to choose. As it was he would still never let a woman cam between he and Sam, but it was certainly not something that he said quite as lightly now.

The bell over the door chimed, and when Dean looked up it wast like someone had stolen all of the oxygen out of the room. Dean's breath hitched in his his chest as recognistion coursed through him. She was here and as she came in Dean took a moment to study her. Her face was pale, almost slightly grey like someone who had been terribly ill. She had tried to hide the dark cresents under her eyes with makeup, but Dean spoted them anyway.

She wore a pair of grey pin striped pants with a matching fitted waistcoat, that covered the palest of pink blouses. As always, she was impecably groomed andlooked more suited to the runways of Milan than in the middle of the panhandle Oaklahoma. It was something that never ceased to amaze him about the Doc, and idly he wondered if she ever just wore a pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt.

Her hair was in a mass of waves, which she had tied back from her face with a slim pink ribbon. Tendrils of her auburn mane fell softly about her face and Dean was struck at what a contrast the soft femine hair was with her tailored suit. Suprisingly, she wore a pair of black driving gloves and had drapped her long overcoat over one arm.

Unlike most people who would need to scan the room to spot who they were meeting, the Doc's stormy blue eyes instantly went to Dean, as if she had always known where he would be waiting for her. She moved over to him her strides long and deliberate, and Dean was fixed to the spot as he watched her move with such an easy grace. While she was probably not the most beautiful woman in the world, everything about her was striking and as Dean slid out of his chair to greet her, he noticed that she had turned more than one head in this middle American mom and pop diner.

Her perfume reached him first and Dean took it in on a long breath that he had no idea he was so desperate to take, and then she opened her arms wide to embrace him and all of the fear that had knotted in his chest drained out of his body. He wrapped his arms eagerly around her, burying his face in the tumble of hair that was tied back off her face, but he had only just made contact, before her felt her jerk as if in pain and place a retraining hand on his chest.

Dean pulled back instantly looking down at the Doc in concern. She rested one of her gloved hands on his chest while her other hand mirrored the position on her own body, clutching at it as if in pain. She looked up at him her eyes troubled and so terribly sad.

"She cut you." she all but whispered her hands spreading out over the long wound that Thammuz had cut into his chest.

The Doc closed her eyes for a moment, her face grimacing slightly. Dean felt a curious warmth in his chest and when he rested his palms on the Doc's shoulders, he was assaulted with flashes of memory from his torture at that hands of that fucked up demon. Although, Dean recognised the memories as his, the feeling about them was strangely detached and he realised that he was actually getting them through the Doc. She was reliving the violence done to him in Reno, in full technicolour splendour.

Dean stepped hurriedly away from the Doc, severing the contact between the two of them. The Doc's face calmed and she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Why did you do that Doc?" Dean said anger touching his voice. He had caused her enough grief once and he didn't bring her all the way here so that she could relive it all again.

"I'm sorry." She said composing herself before slipping into the seat of the booth "I didn't intend for that to happen."

Dean slid into the seat opposite her, this had so not started the way he had hoped.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, looking at her with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine. My talents have been a little more wayward than usual in the last few weeks." While her words seemed nonchalant, Dean could see that she was trying to play down the significance of that statement.

A waitress came up to the table and smiled at them. Dean bit his tongue. He wanted to tell the woman to piss off, but he remained silent as the Doc looked at the young woman with a welcoming smile.

"Can I get you something?"

The Doc settled her long coat on the seat beside her and began pulling off her gloves.

"Could I please have a pot of tea?"

"Darjeeling, English Breakfast, Green, Jasmine or Camomile?" asked the waitress

"English Breakfast." replied the Doc, happy to have the selection.

The waitress turned her eyes on Dean "More coffee?"

"Thanks" he said smiling at her, after all, it wasn't this poor woman's fault that he was anxious to talk with the Doc.

"How about anything to eat?" said the girl with a slightly mischievous raise of her eyebrows.

"I'm not too hungry myself, could I just get some toast and jam." said the Doc.

When the girl turned her eyes back to Dean, he suddenly realised how hungry he was. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a smile creep onto the Doc's face and she watched him in anticipation. He glanced at the menu and thought about getting the big waffle breakfast, but as he was about to speak he just changed his mind.

"I'll have the same." he said finally, and the waitress nodded and slipped off to fill their order.

"You should have had the waffles" said the Doc under her breath and Dean raised an eyebrow at her. Usually the Doc was not quite so open when she was reading people. He knew that she had a strong sense of privacy, she liked her own and would never deliberately invade someone else's; so that she knew he was considering the waffles, seemed a bit off to him.

"Doc, be straight with me" said Dean more sternly than he had intended "Are you sure your alright?"

Hannah looked at him from across the table, her face turning suddenly serious "No Dean, I'm not, but given time I'm sure I will be."

"This is my fault isn't it?" said Dean on a sigh "I put you in this position and now it's making you sick."

Hannah shook her head and the curls around her face bobbed as if in emphasis.

"Dean, nothing that you did made me sick. If anything it helped me realise my limitations. Everyone needs to be humbled like that from time to time, it's good for us."

"I am so sorry Doc, I really am. I never meant to put you in harms way. I didn't even know how badly it would hurt you! If I did I would have never let you do it."

At that Hannah laughed and the sound broke all of the tension that had been building up within Dean.

"Let me?" said Hannah jovially "Dean from where I sat, you didn't exactly have a lot of say in the matter. You didn't force me to do anything, I made my own choices and I accept the consequences of them. Now, let's not say anything more about this okay, it's in the past and we move on."

Although Hannah's words had started off light, at the end it was almost like she was pleading with him to let it go. Her face had hardened like there was pain associated with this topic and Dean didn't have the heart to deny her.

"Alright" said Dean as he watched the waitress carefully place a small tray in front of the Doc and then she reached over to fill his mug with a fresh cup of coffee.

The doc took the pot off the tray and placed the cup and saucer in front of her moving the little plastic tray to one side. Then she looked up at Dean and smiled warmly at him and he could almost swear that he felt his heart hitting his chest.

"How is Sam?" she questioned

"Fine" said Dean watching her intensely

"Not thrilled that you dragged his but all the way to meet me I'll bet." She said with a smile, but her eyes were sad.

"No not particularly. He's back at the motel sulking no doubt."

Dean watched as the Doc poured herself a cup of tea and stirred in some milk with a graceful movement of her hand.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him Dean. Thammuz's attack must have been a terrible reminder for him that his new gifts also left him with a whole new set of vulnerabilities. I don't blame him for developing such mistrust; it will probably keep him alive."

Dean looked guiltily down at his coffee. He hadn't considered what had happened to Sam in Reno. After he'd been rescued, Sam had tended all of his wounds and not once had Dean thought to ask him, how he was doing or what had happened to him during Thammuz's psychic attack.

Hannah smiled at him as she bought her teacup to her lips.

"Don't be too hard on yourself either Dean, this is new territory for the both of you."

Dean smiled a crocked smile at her, his eyebrow raising mischievously "Not really Sam's been a freak since birth."

"Oh!" she said mirroring his look "Is that what we are? Freaks?"

"Hell yes" Dean said with mock conviction. "The whole damn lot of you."

"And I take it you are the patent for normalcy?"

"Damn straight" said Dean

The Doc laughed slightly "If that's the case you may as well take a vacation because the human race is doomed."

"Well thanks very much" said Dean trying to sound offended but unable to keep the amusement from his voice.

The waitress walked up to their table and placed two plates in front of Dean and the Doc, placing a third filled with different selections of spreads and preserves in the centre of the table between them. The Doc thanked her with a warm smile and looked back down to the plate that sat between them.

"Poor woman." she whispered absently.

"What?" questioned Dean, watching the Doc intently.

"Sorry?" said the Doc seeming slightly surprised that she had spoken out loud.

"You said 'Poor woman' about the waitress?" pressed Dean

"No it's nothing" said Hannah trying to dismiss it, but when she looked up at Dean she could tell that he wasn't about to drop it.

Hannah sighed as she looked into Dean's insistent eyes "Alright" she relented "I just think it is sad that she keeps that smile plastered on, when she has so many worries buzzing around in her head."

"Like what?" said Dean picking up his toast and taking a bite. When he tasted the dry unappetising bit of bread, he wondered again why he didn't go for the waffles.

"I told you, you should have gone for the waffles." said the Doc with a smile in her voice, but it was clear to Dean that she was trying to deflect his attention.

"Don't change the subject Doc." persisted Dean.

"Let it go Dean." the Doc said almost pleading "Everyone has a right to their secrets."

"Fair enough" conceded Dean, taking another bite from his toast and then scowling at it. He really should have gone for the waffles.

Hannah took a bite from her own toast that she had neatly covered in some sort of berry preserve, then dabbing her lips with her napkin, she leant forward in her seat and smiled at Dean across the table.

"Let's get down to what we're here for." She said and while her expression was still perfectly poised, Dean could see the underlying anticipation on her face.

She reached under the table and pulled out a small wooden box a little bigger than a deck of cards, and then she handed it to Dean. First of all Dean looked at the box, and he was amazed at the craftsmanship of it. I was made in a dark wood and it had been inlaid with a blonde wood in an intricate spiral pattern across the top. Being someone who worked with their hands, Dean could certainly appreciate the skill required to craft something like this. This was almost a piece of art, but he had a strong sense that this was nothing compared to what was inside.

"After I purchased the Colt journals, I found a Colt historian in Missouri, he gave me the name of a gentleman who is a true craftsmen in every definition of the word."

Dean looked up from the box at that moment, and Hannah smiled studying his reaction with a keen eye

"Open it" she pressed and leaned further forward in her seat.

Dean flipped the top of the box open, and lying in a bed of red velvet where thirteen perfectly shinny bullets, six down either side and one sitting in the middle of the box. Dean ran his fingers over the highly polished bullets and as he touched them he felt a slight vibrations run through his fingers. Dean pulled the bullet with the number one out of the box and twisted it around in his fingers, noticing the minute etched detail along the shiny case.

"I only asked for a dozen, but the plans called for thirteen, so Mr Wilks made sure he followed the plans to the letter."

Dean looked at the Doc a hope filled smile touching his lips. "I'm assuming he can make more of these?"

"He can, but they took a lot longer than he had originally anticipated. Apparently they are of a highly unusual construction. As it was these took him a solid week pretty much working around the clock to finish them in time for me to get them to you."

Dean lay the precious bullet back down in the case reverently.

"Doc this is incredible" he said "we might actually have a chance now."

"The problem is I'm not sure that they'll work." She said cautiously "We took them from the plans that Samuel Colt left in his journal, but there is nothing to say that we didn't make some error in translation, or the plans didn't change or any number of other things that could have happened. I mean honestly, I don't even know if theses will even be compatible with your gun."

Dean looked at her puzzled, "What do you mean Doc, they're just bullets aren't they?"

The Doc gave Dean a slightly guilty look "This is some pretty unusual arcana we are dealing with. I have never seen anything like it before, but it could be that the gun and the bullets must be forged at the same time to be affective or something like that." Hannah looked down her cheeks colouring slightly "I have to confess that my research into this is not as thorough as it probably should be. I was just really eager to get you something to protect yourself."

"No this is great Doc" said Dean, trying to ease the feelings of inadequacy that he could see on the Doc's face "This is a really good place to start."

"There's more" said Hannah almost like she was confessing her sins.

"If you test the bullets and they work, I have arranged with Mr Wilks to build more Patterson's."

"You're kidding." Dean couldn't believe it, the prospect of having more colts out there, killing off the demon horde filled him with a hope, he hadn't even realised before that he had been missing.

"If we can get Samuel Colt's design working again, I thought it would probably be prudent if we armed Adam, and your friends Bobby or Ellen."

"Doc you're a genius." said Dean his smile widening as he thought about the implications of a number of colts being out in the world "This could even change the tide of the war."

Hannah smiled, but there was sadness to it. "Just be careful Dean, I'm praying that these bullets will work, but if they don't, I don't want you to get your hopes up too high."

"It's alright" said Dean, with a smile tugging at his lips "I'm a big boy, I've gotten used to handling disappointment."

They sat and chattered eating and drinking and laughing for another hour. Dean finally relented and ordered the waffles and Hannah caught him up on what was going on with Joel Grayson, Patrick Shaughnessy and the other possession victims from Rhode Island.

It would seem that Emily Lewis, had disappeared shortly after what happened in Rhode island and while Joel and Mario Panora had hit the road looking for her, Patick Shaughnessy was using all of his police contacts to try and locate her. It was amazing how the common tragedy that had happened to them had somehow united them stronger than anything else possibly could have. In fact from the sound of it Joel, Mario and Patrick were well on their way to joining the ranks of hunters travelling across the country.

It was almost twenty to eleven when Hannah excused herself to visit the ladies room. She was enjoying Dean's company, but to be honest, the proximity to all of these people was starting to get to her a little. Her ability to shield herself had improved to what it had been when she had fled to the cabin in Missouri, but they were not working as they normally did, so she was still being bombarded by all of these people's errant emotions.

She couldn't help finding out that their waitress had just learned that she was pregnant, but that she suspected that her husband was cheating on her. Or that the bus-boy had unprotected sex with a stranger at the bus depot and now worried that he had caught AIDS. The secrets of everyone around her had been bombarding her since she had opened the door this morning. She meant what she said to Dean, that everyone had a right to their secrets, but it was sometime hard when unwittingly they were constantly in her face.

Walking into the ladies room, Hannah looked at herself in the mirror. She was still terribly ashen and no matter how much sleep she actually got, the crescent bruises under her eyes just wouldn't seem to fade. She studied her unruly hair in the mirror and clucked at herself in disgust. Usually she spent the time straightening her hair so that is looked neater and was more manageable, but she had woken up late this morning and certainly didn't want to be late to meet up with Dean.

She tried smoothing some of the curls that had fallen from her ponytail, back into place, but they resolutely refused to cooperate. She pulled her lipstick from her hand bag and touched up the colour on her lips, and then she took a deep breath, steadying herself with a hand on either side of the basin.

In all honesty the bathroom didn't really offer her that much of a reprieve from all the errant emotions bashing around in the diner, but at least in the bathroom she didn't have to keep up the pretence of normalcy and try and carry on a conversation whilst trying to ignore all the other psychic noise in the room. Hannah prided herself on her ability to multitask, but a girl could only handle so much.

Hannah washed her hands and dried them on a paper towel, before walking back out into the diner. As soon as she opened the door, she was struck by a malicious hate, the likes of which nearly drove her to her knees. She backed up against the bathroom door clutching it for support, scanning the room, for the source of such a vile presence.

The malicious feeling had fallen in the diner like storm clouds, blocking out everything else with its potency. Hannah scanned the room a second time, trying to focus, her instinct to flee almost overwhelming her. There was only one new face in the diner, a man probably in his early 50's. He looked normal enough upon inspection, but Hannah was almost certain that he was the source.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Hannah walked over to where Dean waited for her, at one stage she almost buckled under the weight of the negative energy assaulting her, but she regained her footing. Dean looked up as she approached and the smile slid from his face as he saw her struggle under some new onslaught.

Dean wouldn't have believed it possible, but when he looked up at the Doc, her face had actually drained of all its colour. He was almost out of his seat to help her, but she shook her head subtly and he stayed where his was, watching her make here way across the diner.

"Doc? What is it?" he said anxiously as she stiffly eased herself in her seat. Hannah wanted to speak, wanted to tell him, but language eluded her, even rational thought seemed to be leaving her. She was fighting hard to suppress the scream that was working its way up her throat.

Hannah could do nothing more than move her hand to cover Dean's, and drop all of her shields. As she did, the miasma of hate ripped through her, cutting at her gut like a savage stitch. At the contact Dean's eyes widened with surprise. He held her gaze and she could see understanding fill his eyes.

Dean could hardly breathe as the Doc covered his hand with hers. The immediate feeling of anger and animosity hit him like a physical blow. He was feeling all of this through Hannah, but he knew that he wasn't suffering the intensity that she must be. He gripped onto her hand, determined to ride this out with her.

"Demon?" he whispered.

Hannah shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. Demons, certainly had an unpleasant feel to them, but it was different, it felt dirty almost greasy like if you move too close to them you would be somehow tainted. This was different; this was pure hatred, a force so destructive that if you moved near it, it would just mow you down.

"Where?" questioned Dean, through his teeth. He was already forming a plan to get the Doc out of here, but he had to know what he was dealing with.

"Behind you" Hannah whispered, the muscle in her jaw clenching and unclenching as she fought the pain that was steadily becoming agony "Just came in."

Dean turned his head as casually as he could, and spotted out of the corner of his eye the older man sitting in a corner booth, his Hornets cap resting on the table in front of him and a cup of coffee in his hand. The man didn't look conspicuous in any way in fact he was down right forgettable in his banality.

"Are you sure?" said Dean, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Hannah nodded slightly, but enough to get her point across. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply. This wasn't like her, this woman who was balancing on this emotional tightrope was not who she was. She let her breath out in one long slow release. She had been emotively raw ever since her collapse in Denver, but this wasn't Hannah, and now it was almost crippling her.

Hannah breathed in a second time and as she exhaled, she pushed her emotions and her physical pain aside, reaching for her intellect, the very thing that had kept her sane through the darkest period in her life. If nothing else she was a survivor, and unless she started to think her way out of this, she would never survive it.

Dean watched as Hannah breathed in and out, he felt the shift in her almost immediately. He could still feel the anger and menace emanating in the room, but the Doc was controlling it now, harnessing it, assessing it and trying to understand it. She wasn't about to let herself be overwhelmed by it.

Dean watched silently amazed at what she could do. He didn't know too many people who could separate their intellect from their emotion quite like Hannah could. John Winchester had been able to, that was why he could always be counted on to do what was needed. At one stage Dean had believed that had could do it too, but he had discovered that he too was a slave to his emotions.

When Hannah opened her eyes again, they were focused, alert almost hard, and when Dean quizzed her silently if she was alright now, she nodded ever so slightly to him and it reassured him. This was more like the Doc that he knew.

The Doc leaned in across the table, she held Dean's hand firmly, almost as if at any moment now, someone would bang the table and the arm wrestle would be on. She cupped her other hand over the back of his, and he mirrored her actions. They were only inches apart across the table now, and for anyone else looking on, they would have looked like lovers, but the intensity in the Doc's eyes never wavered.

She kept him in sight out of the corner of her eye, and taking a slow inhalation in, she began to cut through the waves of anger and animosity that were rolling off of him. Behind the wall of all of that negative emotion, there had to be a source. Why was this seemingly innocuous man, giving off such malicious energy. It was far beyond anything that Hannah had every experienced and there had to be a reason.

Hannah cut through the man's emotions, delving into his psyche in a way that she would normally avoid at all costs. As she studied him, she saw flashes of memory of a young boy, beaten and yelled at. She felt Dean's hand tighten around hers as she winced for the poor boy as he was struck across the face, by someone bearing enough of a resemblance to him to be a father.

She felt a physical pain, but it wasn't actual pain but more an understanding of it. This man lived with it constantly, even when his body was not in pain, he had enough of a memory of it to always exist with him, and with that pain came shame, a shame so intense that it burned hot. Hannah tried not to shy away from the man's shame, but it was intense. Again she locked down her emotions, careful not to take on board any of this man's emotions. Anything in excess was dangerous and this man was all about pain and shame.

Hannah focused her eyes back on Dean for a moment and he looked at her wordlessly. There was more to this, both of them knew it. Dean had been hunting and investigating too long now and his internal instincts were on overdrive.

Hannah registered the tinkle of the bell over the door and Dean's eyes drifted up to watch a woman walk in with a little wisp of a girl perched on her hip. The girl was tiny, probably only four of five years old, and as he mother walked in, she turned her blue eyes curiously to the crowd that was in the diner.

Hannah felt the jolt of excitement run through the man. It was such a shock to her system that it made her start, and Dean's attention was instantly drawn back to the Doc. She was staring now, but not at him, she was no longer in her own head, but delving deeper and deeper into the man across the way.

The man's attention had also fallen on the little girl and the spark of excitement that he felt was soon followed by guilt, then shame and then anger, a wave so intense that Hannah had to brace herself psychically in the face of it. The presence of the child had acted as a catalyst for the man's mind. He desired the child, wanted to possess it and make it his own. He was dawn to it with a strength that was frightening.

Hannah's eyes shifted back to where the little girl was perched on her mother's hip. Closely following the man's desire was his guilt, he didn't want to hurt the child, but the pull to make it his own was almost always too strong. Hannah was witness to his internal struggle between his desire and his guilt. Hannah looked back at Dean, she wasn't the only witness and she could see in his face that he knew where this line of thought was ultimately going to lead.

As the man's internal struggle intensified, shame welled up within him followed quickly by anger, and a raw undefined need to destroy everyone and everything around him. The hate that he felt was directed all internally, and Hannah was momentarily confused by it, but then she felt his need, the burning desire to make someone pay for his self loathing. There it was the flash that she had been hoping for, the source for all of his malicious intent. The man was caught in a shame spiral and at the centre of it, was a child, bound and gagged awaiting a terrible fate.

Hannah was so ingrossed in her discovery that she was almost on her feet to confront the man, when Dean tugged on her hands almost viciously. Through his connection with her he had seen, what she had and he knew that for the sake of the child that was trapped somewhere out there, they had to play it cool.

"Doc" he said sharply, bringing her attention to him. Her eyes blazed and he could see them begin to shift from grey to silver.

"Dean we have to do something." said Hannah, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency.

"I know" said Dean quietly; the only problem was he wasn't sure what that something should be.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**303-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 10:52am**

Dean rubbed at the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. He knew he had to get the Doc out of here, but like her he had seen the stark image of the child trapped somewhere dark and in pain. He was hoping beyond hope, that the Doc had picked up on a bad memory or some sick imagining and that the image in the man's mind was not reflecting reality, but every instinct within him screamed differently.

He reached down into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his car keys then he placed them on the table and slid them over to the Doc.

"Doc, the Impala is parked a little ways down the street, why don't you go get it and bring it up a bit closer, I'll keep and eye on our mystery guest."

Hannah studied him for a moment and he thought that she would refuse, but eventually she reached out for the keys and began to collect her handbag and coat. Dean stood with her, taking a moment to help her into her overcoat, all the while glancing over his shoulder, at the man who sat inconspicuously looking out the window.

The Doc turned back to him once she was in her coat, and leant forward to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone watching it would have seemed like and average farewell, but Dean knew that the Doc would soon be waiting for him just down the street. The Doc walked out, in the same way that she had walked in, on long graceful strides. He was amazed at her composure, because he had felt how much the presence of the man had affected her, but anyone looking on would never have been the wiser.

Hannah smiled at the waitress as she left, offering her thanks as she strode of down the street. Dean slipped into the seat that the Doc had vacated and watched as she passed by the window next to their table, then his eyes rested on the man in the corner booth and he settle in to wait for him to move.

"Son was that your girlfriend?" the question came from the man sitting at the table opposite Dean's, and Dean couldn't help but be surprised by it. The old man who asked was stooped over badly and he had not even taken his gaze off the paper he was reading as he spoke.

"No sir. We're just friends." replied Dean, somewhat bemused by the question.

"You married then?" asked the old man, this time, looking up at Dean from under his bushy grey eyebrows.

"No sir." replied Dean unable to suppress a grin at the tenacious old guy.

"You gay?" said the old man, with the hint of a smile.

"No" replied Dean on a chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation around him, he was getting curious as to the old man's point.

"Then son, you need to pull your finger out and start courting that girl." said the old man in a paternal fashion "Sophisticated women like that don't stay single for long."

The waitress came up in between then and smiled almost apologetically at Dean.

"Now Abe, are you disturbing this poor man." She said as she filled his mug with coffee.

"No" interjected Dean smiling at the old man "He wasn't bothering me at all."

"I was just offering him a little neighbourly advice, Ruthie. That's all." protested the old man.

"Ok" she said kindly patting the old man's hand "You want some pie? We got a nice pecan pie made fresh this morning?"

"No thanks Ruthie." said the old man with a wink to Dean "Those damn nuts play god awful havoc with my teeth."

"Alright then." She said and offered more coffee to Dean, but he shook his head and she moved hurriedly on. Dean watched as she moved over to the man in the corner booth, who happily took a refill. From the looks of it, Dean might be there for a little while longer.

"I'm Dean." He said quickly to the old man extending his hand. He figured it would probably look less conspicuous if he had a reason to still be in the diner.

"Abe McHerney" said the old man, extending his own hand. When Dean shook it, he could feel how arthritis had twisted the man's knuckles, so he was careful not to exert to much pressure, he also didn't want to shake hands like a dead fish, so he carefully squeezed the man's hand.

"That's good" said Abe approvingly "You shake hands like you mean it. Not too many young people today do that."

"Can I join you?" asked Dean, all the while keeping his eye on the man in the corner booth.

"Sure" said the old man, sounding delighted to have someone interested in his company.

"I know just about everybody in Goodwell, so I know you ain't a local. What brings you to our little corner of nowhere Dean?" said Abe looking up at Dean, under his grey eyebrows. It was a mannerism that was forced on him by the stooping of his shoulders and his back, but strangely enough there was something cheeky about it that suited the man.

"I'm actually just sort of passing through." said Dean, feeling bad for being evasive with this kind old guy.

"That's what I said fifty seven years ago. So much for that plan huh?" said Abe.

Dean smiled at the old man and took a sip of his coffee, all the while keeping his eye firmly on the man in the corner.

"So what kept you here?' asked Dean lowering himself in the chair so that the old man didn't have to look up at him.

"A woman." Abe said wistfully "It's always a woman."

Dean laughed slightly "She must have been really beautiful."

"Nahhhh" Abe chuckled "That woman was uglier than sin. On the inside as well as the outside if you know what I mean. But damn could she cook. Every time I considered leaving, she would make a sweet potato pie that would make the very angels weep and after I had a slice of that I just didn't have the heart to go."

"So its true then." said Dean laughing at the old man's memories "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Well I can't speak for every man" replied Abe thoughtfully "But it was certainly true in my case. What about your pretty lady friend? Can she cook?"

Dean considered the question; it wasn't something that he had ever thought about before. "You know something Abe, I have absolutely no idea."

Abe seemed to chuckle slightly "That's alright, the girls pretty enough to forgive her any shortcomings. What to you do Dean when you aren't taking pity on old men in diners?"

Dean looked up briefly at the man in the corner booth, who seemed to almost be sitting there immobile and then he looked back at Abe. "I'm a reporter." Dean said hating to lie to this decent old guy but consoling himself with the necessity of it.

"Really" said Abe his interest peaked. "Who do you write for?"

"Actually, I'm mostly freelance, pick up work wherever the wind takes me." replied Dean. "The pay stinks, but I keep my own hours and I go where I want."

"I'd like to say it sounds interesting kid, but at my age, that kind of life just sounds lonely."

Dean studied Abe for a moment. The man spoke of loneliness like he was intimately acquainted with the subject "Yeah I guess it can be a bit lonely."

"And what about your pretty lady friend?" asked Abe, with and inquisitive raise of his bushy eyebrows "How'd you meet her?"

Dean smiled coyly at the old man "We sometimes work together."

"So she's a reporter too?" asked Abe, and Dean couldn't help but notice that the old man was highly curious about the Doc. He wondered for a moment if the old guy wasn't harbouring a bit of a crush for her.

"No she's a Doctor" said Dean honestly "She helps me get information on the projects that I'm working on."

"A smart one too huh?" said Abe musing to himself "You better nab her up quick boy. Pretty and smart, that's a rare package, or at least it was in my day."

Dean looked up and over at the man in the corner booth again, as he took the final long swig of his coffee.

"Abe" said Dean looking at the older man "It was really nice talking with you, but I've got to be going, I got a deadline to meet and an editor who will not be kept waiting."

"Good to talk to you too son." said the old man congenially "If your still here tomorrow drop on in. I'm here everyday."

Dean pulled some bills from his pocket, enough to cover his bill and whatever Abe may have had. "You know what; I just might take you up on that."

Dean held out his hand to the older man and shook it warmly. He sincerely wish they had met under better circumstances, but as it was he had a job to do, and a child's life depended on him doing it.

As he waved farewell to Abe and Ruthie, Dean looked down the street to see that the Doc had pulled the Impala up outside the shop next to the diner. He could see the Doc waiting in the passenger's seat, so he jogged down to the car and slipped into the driver's seat.

"You doing ok Doc?" he questioned as he slipped into the car.

Hannah nodded, but her gaze did not leave the door to the diner.

"He's just getting up now." said Hannah, her voice sounding cold. "I've been monitoring him inside, trying to get some solid information on the girl."

"And?" prompted Dean

"There is so much rage…so much anger, but he is channelling it, getting organised."

"Organised for what?" questioned Dean, but he already knew the answer to that.

"He plans to kill her." Hannah said flatly, but Dean was learning that the only way that the Doc could deal with this, was to try and cut all emotion out of it.

"There he is." said Dean, watching the non-descript man leave the diner and make his way to the old pick-up that was parked a little way down from them.

Dean started the Impala up and waited for the guy to pull out before he too pulled out into traffic and followed the beat up pick-up through the streets of Goodwell. In only a short while Dean noticed that they were nearing the edge of town. The houses were getting sparser and he wondered where their guy was taking them.

Then they passed a property with a large red big-rig parked in the driveway. The old blue pickup pulled up, and as Dean drove slowly by, Hannah watched the man get out and walk up the path through the perfectly manicured lawn up to the front door. When Dean was sure that he wouldn't be spotted he made a sharp u-turn and began doubling back to where the blue pick-up had pulled over.

As Hannah and Dean approached the house, there was a growing sense of urgency building and Dean knew that it was emanating from Hannah. The house was nothing extraordinary; in fact it could have been any house in any Middle American town. The lawn was green and well cared for. A white picket fence, surrounded the front yard and a classic white mailbox was perched on a gate post at the front of the property. Dean even noticed with macabre interest, that in the flowerbeds in front of the house, there were garden gnomes positioned strategically throughout.

Dean, pulled Hannah into the cover provided by the big rig, and taking a moment, he stood on the step up to the big rigs door and looked in through the window. The big rig seemed typical enough. There were interstate maps littered on the seat just below Dean's line of sight and a sheep skin cover had been thrown over the driver's seat. Dean peered further, trying to see back into the sleep compartment, but unfortunately the curtains were drawn across. Then he noticed in the space between the two seats, a length of nylon rope and a role of silver gaffer tape.

Sliding down, Dean didn't have to tell the Doc what he had seen, she could see it in his face. He gave her a look of resolve and then pointed to the back of the house. As they moved stealthily; Dean reached behind him to feel the gun that he had slipped into the waist band of his jeans.

Once they got near the house, there wasn't a lot of cover and Dean hated that they would be that exposed. He pressed the Doc against the side of the house and stopped to try and listen for a moment to pinpoint exactly where their guy was.

"Can you tell where he is Doc?" Dean asked and watched her as she closed her eyes and rested her palms against the side of the house.

"He isn't on this level." She said sounding momentarily confused "He seems to be underground."

"Basement?" Dean whispered and Hannah nodded in confirmation.

Feeling slightly better, Dean made his way towards the back of the house. The fence continued around here, but unlike the waist high white picket fence, the back fence was a good six feet high. When Dean approached the gate to the back yard, he heard a low pitched growl the made him freeze in his tracks. Hannah followed his que listening for a moment to the low rumble coming from the other side of the fence. The slats of the gate where all flush, so Dean couldn't see what sort of dog was behind it, but the last thing he wanted to do was start the dog barking and alert the man to their presence.

He felt Hannah, put her hand on his arm and push him gently aside, then she moved up silently next to him. Her movement, though silent, caused the dog to increase its low pitched growling. Dean looked at Hannah with an alarmed expression on his faced, but she gave him a look a reassurance, that made him feel better.

Placing her palm flat against the gate, Hannah began speaking softly to the dog. Her voice was pitched low and even and it had a cadence to it that even Dean found lulling. With infinite patience, the Doc moved closer to the gate, all the while still speaking in her gentle voice.

Dean noticed that the dogs growling had changed from the low pitched rumble to almost a whine. It was clearly confused by Hannah and was court between its desire to bark and its curiosity as to who this new stranger with the lulling voice was.

Hannah held her hand up to Dean, indicating for him to stay put for a moment, then with slow hand movements she reached over the gate and undid the latch, the Dog's whine increased a little and Hannah's voice rose in volume slightly, then she sat back on her haunches, low enough not to be a threat to the dog and pushed the gate open just a little.

The head that came around the gate looked more like a bear than a dog, and Dean's heart was in his throat, the Doc had left herself in a highly vulnerable position. If she lost control over this Dog, she was history, so Dean slipped the gun from his belt and made sure that if he had to he could put the dog down before it injured the Doc.

Hannah held her hand out to the Rottweiler's broad snout and the dog sniffed her vigorously, cocking its head as if curious as to her presence. Dean had no doubt that the Doc was doing something to make the dog compliant, as to what it was he had no notion, but he prayed that she could keep it up.

Very slowly, Hannah bought up her other hand and allowed the dog to smell that one too; then with the greatest of care, she stroked a gentle hand across the dogs head. The simple contact seemed to clear up all of the dog's confusion and it snuffled at her hand to get more attention.

The dog took a couple of steps forward, and Dean saw the massive girth of this dog. This dog was bread for one purpose, mass destruction. It had a deep barrel chest and strong muscular sides; even its head was massive, wide and thick sculled.

Hannah continued to pat the dog and talk to it in her gentle tone, all the while taking small steps in through the gate.

"Let me get him inside and secure him, before you come through." said Hannah in the same beguiling tone as she was using with the dog.

Dean didn't answer her, for fear of breaking her spell over the mammoth Rottweiler, but he wasn't too happy about loosing sight of her. A few anxious moments passed and then he heard Hannah call to him quietly.

Moving slowly, Dean made his way through the gate. A little ways over in the back yard, Hannah had managed to get the dog to lie down and now she was lulling it to sleep with gentle strokes across its muzzle and ears. Dean made cautious movements edging his way around to the back of the house.

When he got around to the back door, the door itself was locked, but there was a large dog door that swung freely. Dean took a moment to check that there was no one inside through the window; then he dropped to all fours and pushed himself quickly through the dog door.

Hannah watched him disappear inside, and then a moment later, she heard the door unlock and he was waiting for her just inside. She left the dog, confident that it was now asleep and joined Dean at the door that lead through to the kitchen.

"Not one of my more dignified entrances." Dean whispered as she drew close, then he closed the door and made sure that dog door was locked, just in case uber Fido decided to wake early from his little nap.

Dean looked around the kitchen. It was no doubt like a million across America. The only conspicuous thing about it was just how clean it was. There was a subtle smell of cleaning fluid in the air, but beyond that, this guy was a regular Martha Stewart.

Dean looked around a little, holding his gun ready, he listen to see if he could hear any movement, and when he couldn't he looked at Hannah and waved her to follow. Only Hannah wasn't watching him, her eyes were fixed and slightly glazed over; she was certainly seeing something that he couldn't see.

"Doc" said Dean quietly moving over to her "What is it?"

Hannah didn't look at him, didn't even acknowledge that he spoke; her eyes were fixed on something in the middle of the room. Dean wrapped his hand around the Doc's wrist intending to get her intension, instead he felt a jolt go through him, like static electricity and then he felt the eyes upon them.

Looking up Dean saw the room filled with maybe twenty or thirty little girls, all who stared at him with wide, watery, hopeless eyes. Dean's stomach clenched painfully as he realised that he was seeing the spirits of all the children that this sociopath had killed over the years. Horror filled him as the sheer number of them crowded into the kitchen and down the corridors.

Dean knew without even having to look, that if he were to search in every room, more eyes would look up at him with their silent pleading. None of the girls were any older than seven or eight, and even in their spirit form a look of bewilderment touched their pale faces, as if they recognised that they had died in some terrible way, but it was nothing that their young minds could conceive of.

Dean felt more than heard the Doc choke back a sob, but he couldn't look at her. The image of all of these little girls held him in thrall, the magnitude of what he was looking at filled him with thoughts more terrifying than any demon had provoked within him.

On some unseen cue all the little girls turned their fathomless eyes to one point in the house, and Dean felt the anticipation of something terrible about to happen. Before he could speak, all of them pointed in unison at the same point in the house and looked back at Dean and Hannah with pleading silent eyes.

Before he realised what was going on the Doc was in motion, and feral cry torn from her throat. She slipped Dean's hold on her and was a flurry of motion and sound. As soon as his contact with the Doc was severed, he could no longer see the spirits of the little girls, but he knew in his gut that they were still there, he just didn't have the time to consider them at the moment.

Dean launched himself after the Doc, their plan to surprise the man blown out of the water. The Doc ran to the door under the stairs, where all of the little girls had pointed, she reached out with her mind gripping at it, a desperation coursing through her, the door all but imploded ripped off its hinges from the force of her mental blow.

Dean miss stepped, completely taken aback by the violence the Doc had wielded against the door, but Hannah didn't pause, didn't stop, she just launched herself down the stairs to the basement. What Dean couldn't possibly understand, is without her shields, Hannah felt all the pain that sat like a cloud over this house, she could feel every beaten tortured soul that had died here, and it was almost driving her mad. But the thing that she couldn't get past, that shined like a beacon in the miasma of pain and suffering was the essence of the little girl beneath them holding tenuously onto life.

Hannah saw the man at the bottom of the stairs. He had been on his way up the stairs to investigate the noise, when she had hit the stairs above him. In her haste, her hair had slipped its ribbon, so her hair flowed around her like crackling flame. Her eyes glowed sliver so that, as she came down the stairs at him, she looked like a valkyrie coming for his soul.

When Hannah, saw the man, she felt rage nearly blind her, in her mind she wanted to rend his limbs from his body and she felt the power within her building in such a way that she could make all of her desires reality, but one small thread of reason remained, allowing her to control her rampaging emotions. It didn't however stop her from tossing him like a rag doll with a simple thought.

Dean scrambled down the stairs behind the Doc, unable to do a thing in face of the Doc's ferocious response. When he hit the bottom step, he saw her standing over the man. The man cowered at the site of her, and as Dean looked on he could understand why. Her whole body seemed to hum with barely restrained power.

Her hair billowed around her as if tossed by the wind, but Dean knew there was not even a slight breeze in this darkened basement. Her eye blazed with an icy fire, unnatural in every sense of the word. The man lay trembling at her feet, mumbling the Lord's Prayer in a panicked whisper.

Dean quickly looked around the room, and in a darkened corner his eyes met with a tiny pair of eyes that shined just barely in the darkness.

"Doc!" said Dean sharply, and when Hannah turned her blazing eyes towards him, he had a momentary concern for his own safety, but he stood his ground and simply turned his eyes to the trembling shell, tied to the cot in the darkened corner of the room.

Hannah followed his line of sight, and he could tell from her sharp intake of breath the moment when she spotted the tiny girl. Without even sparing the man a look, the Doc, flicked her wrist and the man went careening into the closest wall, his head connecting with a dull thud and his body crumpling to the floor.

As she moved towards the little girl Hannah's energy seemed to calm. Dean watched as her hair settled about her shoulders and her eyes shifted from the raging mercury to their smoky blue. As she got close, Hannah began speaking to the girl, soothing her in much the same way as she had spoken to the dog upstairs. Dean moved in behind Hannah, looking at the tiny child in the bed.

The little girl, was tied to metal rings in the wall, her beaten and bloodied body was lying in a mass of soiled sheets that smelled of the most hideous violence imaginable. The girl trembles as Hannah sat herself gently on the bed, her eyes wide with fear. She looked from Hannah then to Dean and she tried to push herself further into the soiled sheets.

Dean swallowed hard; the putrescent smell of the conditions the child lay in making him dry retch. There was way too much blood in the sheets, how the girl managed to even still be alive was a miracle. Dean watched as Hannah laid gentle hands on the girls beaten face. At first the girl shrank away from them, but as soon as Hannah made contact, the girls eyes widened for a moment in disbelief and then in relief.

"Dean" said Hannah quietly not even looking at him "Can you free her hands?"

Hannah's words bought Dean out of his reverie, and quickly he hurried to undo the ropes the bound the girl. At Dean's approach, the girl whimpered like a wounded animal, but Hannah continued to speak softly to her, easing her pain and wiping the tears from her eyes. The tiny child looked so lost, that Dean felt his heart would break in his chest, so he quickly untied the ropes. As he looked at where the ropes had bitten into her wrists, memories of his own torture at the hands of Thammuz rushed through him and he was filled with an acute empathy for the tiny girl.

Hannah turned her eyes on Dean, the way his pain spiked drew her attention and she caught his wrist, locking eyes with him for just a moment. Then she gathered the tiny child to her, and the girl clung to her almost desperately. Hannah rocked with her, gently assuring her that she was no longer alone, doing everything she could to ease her pain, even taking it into herself.

As she held the child she could feel the searing pain deep in her womb, the tearing of flesh too young for what was imposed upon it. She took the pain and pushed it aside, her only thought of the tiny child in her arms. She knew evil, had experienced it first hand, but this was something else altogether.

"I'll get an ambulance." said Dean quietly.

"No" said Hannah and her heart wrenching tone stayed Dean's motion "She's too far gone. She just didn't want to die alone."

Dean turned and looked at the way Hannah cradled to the child to her breast. Soothing, and stroking and reassuring her.

"It's alright Amelia, you're not alone anymore. You'll never be alone again." whispered Hannah.

Dean wanted to go and wrap his arm around the both of them, but his sense of failure had him rooted to the spot. He watched as Hannah began to hum a lullaby to the little girl, gently lulling her to a peaceful sleep. He watched, with a stomach churning realisation as the child's tiny fist fell from where it had been wrapped tightly in the Doc's blouse. Her eyes were open, but she was gone. Dean could tell by the dull look that filled her large blue eyes.

Hannah held her close for a long time, as the last of her life energy ebbed away, and when she was finally gone, Hannah let the pain overwhelmed her. Clutching the child close, Hannah wept allowing the misery to consume her. There was just nothing else for it, she had been pushing it aside for so long that it would not be contained and it flowed through her as the tears ran down her face.

Dean felt his own tears burning his eyes as he listened the Doc's sobbing. Of all his years hunting, never had he been in a position of such potent anguish. He rubbed angrily at his eyes, feeling rage unfurl in his gut. Here he was trying to save the human race and all they were doing was destroying themselves. He thought about the tiny girl in the Doc's arms, and the spirits of all the other girls upstairs and he could think of only one thing…Justice.

Dean heard the man groan and without even looking back he strode over to him on determined steps, drawing his gun from his belt. He felt no hesitation, no remorse, just the cold empty feeling of justice for all of these girls, but before he pull the trigger, the Doc's voice permeated his rage.

"Dean, NO!" she said sharply, laying the tiny body that she held back down on the bed and standing.

Dean couldn't look at her. His finger poised on the trigger and he almost shook with the need to do something, if he couldn't save them in life, the least he could do is avenge all of their deaths.

"Doc, I have to. I have to find some justice for those girls."

Dean felt Hannah's hand on his arm and for the first time, he looked at her. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her face tear streaked. Amelia's blood was on her clothes and he realised that she was struggling to walk, but still she didn't waver.

"That isn't justice." She hissed turning her attention to the man on the floor who was now regaining consciousness "That's giving him the easy way out."

Hannah tangled her hand in the front of the man's shirt and dragged him to his feet, the effort almost making her fall "He has to live with the memory of what he has done. He has to live with the knowledge of all the pain and all the suffering he has caused. Sometimes the thought of living with what you have done is worse than the thought of hell."

With her mind Hannah pinned the man to the wall, he was fully aware now and her thrashed in terror at the unseen force that held him helplessly to the wall.

"So you never forget" Hannah hissed, and she lay her hand dead centre on the man's chest.

Dean felt the energy in the room shift, it was a palpable tangible thing that swirled as the Doc unleashed all of the pain, within these wall, all of the pain she had taken from Alicia and all of the suffering that this man had unleashed against his defenceless victims.

Dean lowered his gun as he felt a wind pick up in the room, a vortex of energy with the Doc at its eye. Then he heard the man scream, it came from deep in his chest, a sound of pure terror. Dean moved closer to Hannah as the energy in the room began to whine like a high wind, it tossed the sparse furnishing of the basement around the place in careless abandon.

The Doc's face had shifted from determined to pained. Dean could feel that the energy was coming to a crescendo all of it coming from the Doc. A scream came to Hannah's lips as she channelled the last of the energy through into the man on the wall. With no shields, she had never been more exposed in her entire life and the pain was excruciating, beyond anything she had ever experienced in the past, but in a way, she welcomed it, sure in the knowledge that whatever she felt, so would the bastard at her fingertips, for the rest of his life.

The crescendo of energy and noise died suddenly, and the man slipped to a whimpering heap on the floor. Hannah swayed on her feet, but Dean was right behind her and put a supporting arm around her to catch her before she fell. Hannah was suddenly grateful for his presence, she felt empty, drained of everything and the strength she could feel in his arms was a comfort to her.

She leaned on him heavily; throwing her arm around his shoulder for support. Looking down at her feet, she saw the man whimpering and snivelling and had to restrain the urge to kick him.

"Come on" Dean whispered close to her ear "We have to get out of here."

Hannah turned her head toward the bed with difficulty, her head seemed to weigh more than her neck could support.

"What about Amelia?" asked Hannah, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"When we're out of here, I'll call the local authorities. They'll see that she is returned to her family." said Dean, wiping at the tear tracks on the Doc's face.

Hannah wanted to do more, but she realised that she was now in no position to do anything, so she bowed down to Dean's wisdom and nodded her head silently.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**303-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 11:37am**

Dean took a moment to look around the room, his survival instinct making sure that they hadn't left anything that might betray their presence there. Then he looked down at the man at his feet. The man whimpered incoherently, his eyes unfocused as he stared wildly around the room.

"I hope you end up in general population you son of a bitch" he spat at the man "they just love child murders like you in there and paybacks a bitch."

Then Dean looked at the Doc briefly, pushing an errant strand of her hair from her face. He took most of her weight as they headed towards the stairs. The staircase itself would never allow them to walk two abreast, so Dean dropped an arm under the Doc's knees and picked her up.

Hannah sagged against him as he carried her up the stairs, and when he stepped over the shattered door, he didn't bother to put her down. They needed to get out of here fast, just in case anyone heard the cacophony downstairs and had already called the police.

Dean wasn't convinced that the Doc would be able to control Cujo, so against his better judgement her opted for the front door. He used the fall of the Doc's coat to mask his fingerprints as he opened the door, and checking the street to make sure that no one was watching, he hurried with the Doc still in his arms over to where the Impala was parked.

To open up the car, Dean had to put Hannah down, and she leaned heavily against the Impala, her legs unable to support her weight. Dean helped her into the car, then hurried over to slip into the driver's seat.

Dean drove down the street for a few blocks, he had been making sure that no one had seen them, but now that he had the opportunity to look at Hannah her pallor alarmed him. She was so pale, her skin looked almost translucent. Her face looked drawn and sallow, and she clutched at her abdomen as if in pain.

"I've got to get you to a doctor." Dean said, but the logistics of that worried him. What would he tell a doctor? How could he explain it to them? Could they even help the Doc?

"No" Hannah moaned softly "No Doctors"

"Doc, you look like death warmed up." Dean argued, but Hannah was insistent in her request.

"Pull over" she managed to say clutching at her stomach.

"Pull over." She repeated with urgency in her voice.

Dean did as she asked and as soon as the car was almost at a stop, she opened the car door and all but rolled out. She heard Dean swear as she disappeared out of the car and the twigs and stones on the side of the road bit into her hands and knees painfully where she landed on them.

Dean hurried out of the car running around to where the Doc had landed on all fours in the debris by the side of the road, where she them proceeded to violently retch up the entire contents of her stomach. Dean could do nothing for her, except try and hold back her hair. Every heave sounded like a sob and yet she couldn't seem to stop.

All of the vile emotions that she had carried within her truly made her sick to her stomach, and holding it in for so long had meant that her body had needed to purge itself of it as if it were a poison.

If Hannah didn't feel so wretched, she was sure that she would die of embarrassment. In her mind she couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for Dean. There was perhaps nothing worse than watching someone vomit violently, but he was handling it like a gentleman, holding her hair out of the putrid mess and rubbing a hand gently over her back. He didn't say a word, her just waited patiently for her retching to subside.

Hannah reached into the pocket of her overcoat, pulling out a handkerchief so that she could clean herself up a little, then she felt Dean's hands on her, lifting her off her hands and knees.

With the greatest of care, Dean lay the Doc down on the back seat of the Impala, then he shut all the doors and jumped in the drivers seat and continued on down the road.

"Don't worry Doc" he said gently "I'll get you out of here."

Hannah buried her face in her hands "Dean I am so dreadfully sorry." She said in a forlorn voice.

"Sorry?" replied Dean sounding slightly confused "What for?"

"For disgracing myself back there." Hannah all but whispered.

The very idea of it making her cheeks burn hot. In the back of her mind, she wondered why she was making such a big deal of it. After all they had seen today, this was almost trivial in the scheme of things. But as she considered it, Hannah realised, that focusing on the trivial meant that she didn't have to deal with the knowledge of what they had just been through. And she wasn't quite ready to deal with that just yet.

"Disgracing yourself." said Dean with mock amusement "Doc you didn't even come close. Take it from a man who has won prizes in the disgrace stakes. And Sam, well Sam has that particular gift nailed just right; all he has to do is mix his drinks and its all over."

Dean knew that he was babbling, but he needed to do something to cover his concern. The Doc looked terrible and clearly she didn't feel any better than she looked. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for her in that house, but if her body's reaction was any clue, it must have been close to hell.

Ahead on the roadside Dean caught sight of a payphone and he was eager to call the cops in on that murderous son of a bitch. Even though little Amelia was already dead, he didn't want her to have to spend any more time with that prick than she had to.

"Doc" said Dean his voice sounding serious. "I'm just going to make the call. I'll be back in a moment."

And with that Dean pulled the Impala to the side of the road and got out to use the payphone. He dialled 911 and waited for the dispatcher. As soon as he heard the answer he began talking at her in a high pitched panicked voice. He ignored all of her question, giving her all the details that she would need in spite of her requests for him to calm down. Dean knew cops, particularly small town cops, if they got a call like this, then they would probably send a patrol car around to check it out.

They would probably think it was nothing, perhaps a kids prank, but most small town cops where hungry for that case that would validate their existence. It made them a little more observant than city cops and he was counting on that to ensure that they found Amelia's body. After he had finished his harried message to the dispatcher, Dean hung up the phone and jumped back in the Impala. He spared the Doc a quick glance and was relieved to see the she had slipped into sleep.

He wondered for a moment, where he should go. Briefly he considered taking her back to the hotel that he shared with Sam, but instinctively he knew that she would be mortified if any more people saw her like this. Besides, even thought Sam wouldn't say anything, his disapproval leeched off of him. Dean didn't need to be psychic to feel it, and he didn't want to inflict that on the Doc, not now.

Dean just started the car and began driving, he had no idea where he was headed and right now he didn't care. He would just drive until he found a spot where he could give the Doc some peace.

Driving down the country roads of Goodwell, Dean spotted a dirt road with a hand made sign to 'The Pond'. The road was barely wide enough for a car, but it was flat and in relatively good condition, so he just continued driving to see where it would take him. As the scrub around him receded, Dean looked to where a large tree sat on the banks of a pool of dark water.

The pond itself didn't look natural, more likely the product of some mining exploration that the locals had turned to their advantage, but there was enough space to pull the Impala up under the shade of the large tree so Dean did exactly that. He looked around himself, grateful that the spot at this time of day was deserted. At night he imagined that the banks would probably be littered with cars full of horny teenagers. It had the decided feel of a make out place to it.

Dean opened up all the doors of the car, to allow the subtle breeze to blow through and keep the Doc cool, then he dropped down on to his haunches and studied her where she slept.

In her sleep she had wrapped one arm protectively around her body, while her other hand cupped her cheek. Dean knew that he should leave her to sleep but he needed to touch her. After everything he had seen today he needed the comfort of physical contact, if only to reassure himself that there were still good people worth fighting for in this world.

With infinite gentleness, Dean lifted the Doc's head and slipped onto the back seat beneath her. Her hair splayed out in his lap, and her cheek felt warm against his thigh. Dean's fingers, stroked her hair absently and on occasion he allowed his fingertips to linger on the soft skin of her cheek.

He had watched her in fascination today, unrestrained and out of control, something so very foreign from what he knew of her. The Doc kept such a tight reign over every aspect of herself, that sometimes it appeared like she was remote and without feelings, but like the saying went, still waters ran deep and the Doc certainly had some deep seated passions.

In his minds eye, Dean replayed how she had gently held the child to her, humming and rocking her softly. He wondered almost absently if her mother had done the same for her and that was where she had learned it of if it was some instinct that she had innate but dormant.

Even in childhood, Dean had never had anyone hold him with that kind of tenderness. He had vague recollections of his mother perhaps doing something like that, but after Mary Winchester died his childhood had become hard, about strengthening his body as well as his resolve. It's not that his father hadn't been affectionate; he was just distracted by the role he had assumed to ever give too much thought to the brothers need for tenderness.

As Dean's thoughts wandered he looked down to where the Doc's hand rested palms up on his leg. He notice that the palms were all scratched up and bloody, from where she had fallen on them, but as he looked closer at them he realised that the heel of her palm and her fingertips had raw pink flesh on them. He ran a finger gently over it to feel the puckered skin underneath. These were burn scars, a repercussion of there little battle with Asbeel in Rhode Island.

He ran his thumb gently across the scars, knowing that they would never fade. She would carry these for the rest of her life all because if her association with him and Sam. The very thought sparked a fiery guilt in his chest. The Doc had done nothing but help them right from the very beginning and on almost every occasion it had cost her. As much as the idea pained him, he realised that to protect her, he would have to let the Doc go and sever all ties with her. It was the only way that he could be sure she would be safe.

Dean sighed deeply, his realisation squeezed tightly in his chest like a cold hand around his heart. If he had to leave her, Dean was determined o take full advantage of the last moments he had with her. He buried his hands deep in her hair, like he always wanted to. Letting his head fall back to rest on the seat, so that he could just revel in the feeling of the soft strands running through his fingers. He combed his hand through her hair rhythmically and listened to the sounds around him. All he needed was one perfect moment to last him for the rest of his life, all three hundred days of it. With Hannah curled in his lap, Dean drifting off to sleep.

* * *

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 1:27pm**

Sam closed his book impatiently and dropped it down on the night stand next to his bed. He was sick of waiting for Dean to get back, after all how long could breakfast possibly take. He was hungry and irritable and all he could think of was Dean holed up in a hotel room somewhere with the Doc.

At midday Sam had tried to call his brother, but Dean was either out of range or had turned his phone off. In a way Sam regretted not going with Dean, at least if he had been there he could have kept it short. He also would have been fed.

Irritably he picked up the archaic remote control and switched on the television, debating as to whether or not he should call Dean again. As he flicked through the paltry offering of ancient movies, nature specials and local community channels, he decided that he had to give it another try or he was going to go steadily mad.

Sam dialled his brother, but flicked his phone shut with a loud snap as soon as he heard Dean's voice mail message kick in. Sam let his anger curl in his stomach. He had a growing sense that they needed to be somewhere and waiting around this nowhere town in Oklahoma was not helping. That he had no idea where he needed to be seemed to have conveniently slipped his mind at this moment as he gave reign to his irritation.

Sam thumbed through the pamphlets and literature on the nightstand hoping to find some fast food place that delivered. He many not be able to find Dean, but at least he could do something about his gnawing hunger.

* * *

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 3:49pm**

Dean woke with a start, his head snapping up rapidly taking in the world around him. At his motion the Doc stirred slightly and he glanced down to were she lay in his lap. Dean looked out in the sky. The sun had moved further to the west and his internal clock told him that more than a couple of hours had slipped by. He hadn't even realised that he had drifted off to sleep.

He looked back down at the Doc and watched as her long lashed flickered open.

"Hey Doc" said Dean gently "You feeling any better after your sleep?"

Hannah turned over in his lap so that she could look up at him. He thought for a moment that she might try and sit up but she seemed content there with her head propped up against his leg.

"I was dreaming of all those little girls. They way the looked at us." she said quietly and Dean was slightly taken back by that. He too had been dreaming of childish eyes upon him, looking at him with quiet desperation.

"How could he do it Dean? How could he get all of those babies and no one notice him?" Hannah asked and her voice held all of the confusion and pain that she quite obviously felt.

Dean sighed heavily, "He was a truck driver, probably abducted the girls from all over. They would have been long gone by the time anyone realised that they were missing."

Hannah closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Dean was hurting; she could feel it deep within him. Hurting in a way that his calm façade would never betray, and while he understood the how of the girls abductions, he would never understand the why. Hannah understood it, she had seen the man's rage and his need to violently destroy. She had channelled that wrath through him and reflected it back at him and in doing so she had felt something.

The man had wanted to stop. He had been filled with so much hate and most of it was directed at himself. She had read in him his desire to be caught, but knowing all that, she still couldn't muster up even the smallest amount of pity for him. He was a monster through and through. A man made monster, but a monster none the less.

Hannah looked outside and realised that it must be quite late in the day. Normally she would have moved, but while he was trapped in his own thoughts, Dean had absently been stroking her hair and she didn't want him to stop. She had come away from the morning encounter feeling like a hollow shell, questioning what it was that they all fought so hard to preserve. But lying there just enjoying the companionable silence that stretched between them, her perspective fell back into focus.

Dean sighed heavily, he didn't want this moment to end, but he knew that he was only postponing the inevitable. There was a comfort that he hadn't know for a very long time just being here with the Doc, and like almost everything else good in his life he was going to have to sacrifice it for the job.

But he knew in his gut that the alternative of endangering the Doc any further was just unacceptable. Besides, if he was going to die soon, it wouldn't be fair to form any attachments. At least that's what he told himself, when he felt that sinking sensation in his gut.

"Come on Doc" he said and his voice lacking conviction "We better get back. I'm sure Sam's pitching a hissy fit as we speak."

Hannah took a deep breath and pulled herself into a sitting position. She could feel where Dean had his fingers in her hair, but he had allowed the strands to flow through them as she sat. She fought the wave of pain that threatened to swamp her and scooted across the Impala's back seat until her feet were on solid ground.

Dean felt the loss of contact with the Doc, like a physical blow. With her gone, the weight of the world seemed to settle squarely on his shoulders again. He pushed it aside, slipping off the back seat and closing the back door. Then he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

At the sound of the engine, Hannah hurried to get in the front. He legs were still a touch unsteady, but thankfully the distance wasn't far and she felt far better than she had earlier. Sitting in passenger's seat, she pulled her purse into her lap and closed the door so that Dean could get going.

While Dean navigated the path, the Doc reached into her purse and pulled out a box of peppermints. She popped one into her mouth hoping that it was strong enough to remove the acrid taste of bile. Then she grabbed a comb, and set about taming her mane of hair. It took her a little while but finally she had removed enough of the tangles to braid it into a long plate that sat down her back.

Finally she pulled out her compact mirror and touched up her make up. When she was done, she closed her hand bag and put it on the floor by her feet. Dean looked across at her amazed at the transformation. Once again she was back to her well groomed self, armoured and ready for anything that the world could possibly throw at her. Dean smiled in admiration, he would have thought that it would have taken longer for her to do that, but it would seem that the Doc had her grooming down to a fine art.

"Doc" Dean finally said breaking a silence that had stretched between us "I'm going to drive us back by the house."

Dean anticipated that the very thought of going back to the scene of their earlier confrontation would have upset the Doc, but once again she surprised him with how composed she handled that news.

"Isn't that a little risky" she asked evenly "What if someone saw the Impala?"

"Yeah" admitted Dean "It could be a little bit risky. I just need to know that the police are on to this. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if I didn't."

"Ok" said Hannah quietly and she readjusted her coat so that it covered the blood and dirt that had now ruined her clothes.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**303-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 4.04 pm**

It was a strange assed kind of day when Dean was pleased to see the cops, but as he watched the cop cars parked out the front of that murderous arseholes place, there was a wave of satisfaction that moved through him. Dean drove by slowly and he and the Doc watched the local cops, rushing around the place.

In all honesty the locals had probably never dealt with anything even remotely like this, so they would be a little unprepared for what they would have to do, but at the end of the day, that monster was going to pay for his crimes and that was all that really mattered.

Dean drove on, not tempting fate and joining the little crowd of locals that were gathering in the driveway of the house. He would be curious as to what happened to the man, but he resigned himself to that fact that he would probably have to read about it.

Dean glanced at Hannah as he drove, she looked poised and serene, but he could almost feel the tension within her.

"What it is Doc?" he asked gently and smiled as his words shocked her out of her own reverie.

"Oh, I was just wondering if we did enough to release all the spirits in that house. I hope we did, I didn't exactly stop to ask them."

Dean eyebrow's rose as if impressed "You can do that? Talk to spirits?"

Hannah looked at him and her eyes seemed cool and fathomless "Sometimes." She said wistfully "I usually don't like to though. I don't really have the temperament to be a medium."

"What makes you say that?"

Hannah put her elbow on the window sill and leaned her head in her hand. It was a gesture that betrayed her exhaustion. "It requires a lot of energy. You have to be prepared to give a lot of yourself and frankly I have neither the inclination nor the patience."

"Are you staying at a hotel around here Doc?" questioned Dean, becoming awkwardly aware that they were nearing town and he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

"No, I'm in a hotel in Guymon, a few miles from here." She said quietly "My hire car is parked not far from the Diner, you can drop me off there."

"Will you be alright to drive?" Dean asked with the sudden realisation that these could very well be the last moments that he spent with the Doc. "Perhaps I should drop you back there?"

Dean knew he had to leave her, he had made up his mind that keeping her safe was far more important than the selfish comfort that he drew from her company, but there was a massive gap between making a decision and acting on it, and now that he was suddenly faced with the reality of it, he wasn't sure that he could do it.

Hannah smiled at him, it was meant to comfort him, but it just made him feel worse.

"No. I'll be fine. You should be getting back to Sam. I'm sure he's probably worried about you by now."

Hannah turned her eyes and looked out the window. She could feel the tumultuous emotions running through Dean, and guilt started gnawing at her. If she hadn't agreed to meet up with them again, he would never have been put in the situation of trying to save little Amelia. The mere fact that he couldn't was weighing heavily on him and it made him think of all the people that he cared about.

True to form, Dean felt responsible for all the people that he cared for, and it both surprised and pleased Hannah that she fell into that category. All of his thoughts now had turned to how he was going to protect everyone. Sam featured prominently in his thoughts and his fear over what might happen to his brother after the year was up was almost oppressive.

Dean even felt responsible for her, she didn't mean to pry into his thoughts, but without her shields at full strength she could feel everything that he felt and thought. She knew that he was planning to sever all contact with her. Somewhere in his rationale he equated her relationship with him and Sam as being the source of all danger to her, and although the prospect filled him with great sadness, he was willing to leave her to protect her.

Hannah was heartened that he wanted to protect her, but what he didn't seem to understand was that she had been in constant danger, well before she had ever met either Winchester. If anything, meeting up with Sam and Dean had given Hannah greater purpose in her life, and for someone looking so hard for redemption, that was a gift.

Now just didn't seem the time for her to dissuade him. Mostly she didn't want him to know just how transparent he was to her right now. But also, after the kind of day they had both had, it wasn't worth getting into a discussion about the validity of Dean's plan. She would respect his wishes for now and wait for a more opportune moment to bring it up. He had made up his mind to sever all contact, but Hannah could feel his resolve wavering on that. She was sure that she would be able to discuss this at another time, when they were both better able to deal with it.

Dean saw the Diner pull into view and he felt his stomach sink in despair. Now was the time where he found out if he was man enough to give her up. He repeated over and over in his head, that it was for her own safety but it was still very cold comfort. A parking space opened up and he pulled the Impala into it.

"That's me down there in the Focus." Hannah said, hanging up her seat belt and gathering her handbag from where it sat by her feet on the floor.

"Walk you to your car?" asked Dean as casually as he could.

"Sure" Hannah said mildly, but she could feel the desperation starting to well up within him.

Dean followed the Doc across the road, watching her plat sway across her back as she walked. She reached into her purse and pulled out the key but before she opened the door she turned around and gifted Dean with a smile that made his chest tighten painfully.

He stood just an arms length away, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. If he looked at her he would be undone, and he needed to do this. He had to know that there was some way that he could protect her.

A strange awkward silence drew out between them, and Dean focused his agitation by kicking the tire of her car with the toe of his boot.

"Quite a day huh?" said Hannah, and Dean glanced up to see that she was watching him intently.

"Yeah" he muttered, but his voice almost failed him.

"I'm sure this isn't exactly what you had in mind when we arranged to meet, but I'm glad you were with me Dean. I'm sorry about what happened, but if I had to go through it with anyone, I'm glad it was you."

The Doc's confession caught Dean a little off guard. He had never heard her say anything like this to anyone else. His eyes came up to meet hers and there was such a depth of sincerity in them, that Dean felt a lump forming in his throat.

He stepped forward wrapping his arms around her. He needed to do something to cover up the fact that he was dangerously close to loosing it, and he was relieved when her arms tightened around him. He buried his face deep into the crook of her neck, inhaling in her subtle perfume so he might always remember it.

He held on to her tightly and she felt good in his arms, and he knew that he was only torturing himself, but he couldn't help it. They moved apart slowly, both seeming to be reluctant to end their embrace, but recognising the need for it.

Dean looked down into the Doc's face, trying to memorise everything about it. Her smoky grey eyes that he had seen so many times blaze silver, her high cheekbones and the soft curve of her lips. Dean knew it would be a mistake, but on seeing her lips the only thing he could think of to do, was kiss her.

He lent forward intending just to give her a friendly kiss to say goodbye, but as soon as he lips met the softness of hers, a fire flared in him, blinding him from everyone and everything other than the exquisite sensation of kissing her.

Dean's kiss had taken Hannah by surprise, but what surprised her even more was how hungry she was for it. Dean had started off by simply brushing his lips along hers, but something had changed somewhere in the exchange and this kiss had taken on a life of its own.

Hannah had not been with a man since her family's death. Men had flirted with her and tried to entice her out, but she preferred keeping them at a distance, uncomfortable with letting anyone close to her again. But Dean had somehow slipped under her carefully crafted radar. Now he was touching her in a way that was totally unexpected and Hannah hadn't realised just how much she had missed this kind of intimacy.

Dean was going out of his mind. He had never intended to kiss her, and then when he did he was determined that it would be a gentle kiss of friendship, but there was nothing gentle about what he was doing now. His tongue all but demanded entry in to her sweet mouth and when she opened for him, he heard himself growl deep in his throat.

His male pride was gratified, when he felt the Doc wrap her hands gently around his neck, and when he deepened his kiss he pulled her closer to him, feeling the soft curves of her body pressed into his.

Dean was loosing himself in the contact with her, and a note of warning rang soundly in his head. If he was going to leave her, and he knew that he had to, he would have to go now before he got in too deep. All his body wanted to do was take her somewhere secluded and loose himself in her, but his mind was being a hell of a lot more cautious.

It was self preservation that made him stop, and he sucked lung fulls of air in while he rested his forehead against hers. She too breathed heavily and he felt every rise and fall of her chest in his very bones.

"I'm going to miss you Doc." He said, his voice sounding husky to his own ears. Then he kissed her quickly one more time and turned and took off towards the Impala.

Deans' absence was so sudden and so shocking that Hannah nearly fell, she had been unprepared for what they had just shared, but now that it was gone, she felt bereft. She touched her fingers to his swollen lips and watched as he jogged across the road. Not once did he look back at her, but she could feel how difficult it was for him to leave. She didn't want to make it any more difficult, so quickly she opened up her car and got in.

It was like the story of his life, out of the corner of his eye Dean saw the Doc get into her car, and without hesitation she started it up and drove off in the opposite direction to where he was. Dean was grateful that the Doc hadn't hung around. It had taken all of his will power to even get to his car, if he had to make the decision to leave her standing by the side of the street, he wasn't sure that he could.

Holding on to the steering wheel, Dean let his head fall against his arms and blew out a long note of air. His body was aching and in dire need of release, but worse than that he was heartsore. His entire life had been about sacrifice, but only loosing Sammy compared with the pain that was inside him right now. If he was a more sensitive man, Dean might have broken down and cried, but he was a hunter, and the gig just didn't allow for one to indulge in their emotions.

So Dean sucked it up. He sat up straight in his seat, taking in a big gulp of air and willing himself to keep going. Then he turned on the radio loud and Frank Zappa wailed at him as he took off back to the hotel.

**

* * *

Goodwell, Oklahoma – 4.21 pm**

Sam was just about seething with fury when he heard the Impala pull up outside. He was prowling around the room like a caged tiger, and when Dean opened the door to their room, Sam pounced on him.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you all day."

Dean turned tired eyes at his hissing brother, feeling like he had just about had all that he could bare for one day. He knew that Sam would be pissed, but he hadn't expected anything like this. Sam a worked himself up into a lather and was just looking for someone to take it out on. Unfortunately Dean just didn't have the fortitude to be his brother's punching bag right now.

"Not right now, alright Sam?" he said tiredly

"No Dean, you can't leave me stuck in this room all day without some explanation." Sam was enraged, his vision blurring slightly under the force of his anger. He could fill the well of power within in him start to slowly burn, and every muscle in his body tensed, feeling the power rush through him.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

"I said NOT NOW." Dean elongated the last two words in warning to Sam who was beginning to crowd in on him.

"Yes now." hissed Sam menacingly, giving free reign to his anger.

His eyes slipped form brown to a shining amber and with a simple thought, he had his brother off of his feet and thrust against the wall, trapped there with invisible bonds.

Dean's surprise registered on his face as he felt himself being lifted from the floor and then slammed into the wall. It was a move reminiscent of what Hannah had done to the murdering son of a bitch this morning and that Sam would even consider doing the same thing to Dean shocked the hell out of him.

Then Dean felt him, his brother's presence pushing at his mind. For a moment it felt like his head had been put in a vice, pain emanating for either temple, then Sam was in there, in his thoughts, ruthlessly going through his memories of the day.

Dean was horrified at the violation and tried to protect his thoughts from Sam, but the more he resisted the harder Sam pushed and the greater the pain. Dean groaned in despair unable to stop his brother from stealing his experiences. His eyes looked on to Sam's hoping to see something of his brother, but instead he saw something he didn't recognise, it held him viciously, almost snarling at him as it ripped his inner most thoughts form his mind.

Through the haze of red that had fogged Sam's mind, understanding about where Dean had been began to permeate. He had been so enraged that he hadn't even realised what he was doing, until images of a dying bloody girl filled his mind.

He saw Hannah unleashing her fury on the murderer, then he saw her sick as a dog by the side of the road. All the while Sam had impressions of the emotions that Dean associated with each memory and his anger quickly died. His brother had been through hell today, and Sam had just about tortured it out of him in his rage.

Abruptly, Sam let Dean drop to the floor, reeling back appalled at what he had done. As soon as he was free to, Dean moved on his brother, his own rage boiling over. Sam didn't see it coming, but Dean's fist hit his jaw with a sickening crack. Pain flooded Sam's consciousness and somewhere deep in his mind, he registered the fact that he was falling.

He opened his eyes, to see Dean standing over him, with his fist twisted in the top of Sam's shirt.

"If you ever do that to me again, brother of not…I'll fucking kill you."

Sam had heard his brother say a lot of things, but he never thought that he would hear him say that. There was such quiet menace to it that Sam couldn't help but believe him. Sam sagged back down to the ground, when Dean let go of his shirt, then he heard the door open.

"Dean!" he called as angry footsteps heralded Dean's departure.

Then he swore at himself as he heard the squealing tyres of the Impala as it pulled away. Sam lay on the ground for a moment, cursing himself. What the hell had he been thinking doing that to Dean? The whole problem was he hadn't been thinking… he had just been furious.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**303-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 7.12 pm**

Dean rested the cool can against his head trying to alleviate the dull ache that throbbed there. The cold bought some relief to his head as did the four beers that he had drunk earlier, but nothing could seem to take away the pain that had settled deep in his chest.

Dean sat by the banks of the pond. He had no idea whey he had made it back to this place. At first he had tried to look for a bar, but the prospect of being anywhere near people just turned his stomach. He was so close the edge at the moment, that if someone looked at him wrong, he'd likely end up shooting them.

So he had picked up a six pack and come back to 'The Pond', where he had sat and watched twilight descend on the world. This place was calm and peaceful and in complete contrast to everything that was going on inside of him.

He took another sip of beer and felt the cool liquid as it slid down his throat. This whole day seemed completely unreal to him. Everything about it had been too intense and it was almost beyond his ability to comprehend it. He knew it was only wishful thinking but he couldn't help but hope that any minute now he would wake up and discover that this had all been some fucked up dream.

There was hope and then there was reality, and the reality was that today he had seen a little girl die at the hands of a monster, he had said goodbye to the one thing he wanted most in the world and had been attacked by his own brother.

While Dean was working at reconciling the first two, Sam's attack still left him seething with rage. He wasn't quite sure if he was angrier by what Sam had done or how it had made him feel. The whole time that he had pinned there, he had felt helpless, a sensation that was very foreign to him. He had been so vulnerable and so unable to protect his mind from Sam, that he felt ashamed.

Even when Thammuz had him strung up and was torturing him, it didn't seem quite as bad as what Sam had done to him. He had trusted Sam, and Sam had used his powers to strip Dean of his memories. This creature walked like Sam and talked like Sam, but the yellow eyed demon had been right, it wasn't all Sam that came back. The Sam that Dean knew would never have done something like this.

The thing about it was that they weren't just his memories, or his experiences, they were the Doc's too and while Sam had been stripping them from him all Dean could think of were the Doc's words _'Everyone has a right to their secrets'._

Thoughts of the Doc bought a fresh stab of pain to Dean's chest and he dropped his head forward as if the thoughts in it were weighing him down just too much. While Dean had been driving around, his first instinct had to be to find the Doc. Guymon wasn't a large place, and he was sure he could find her fast enough.

If he was being truly honest his first instinct had been to just fuck Sam, fuck hunting, find the Doc and go away and live the rest of his short life doing something for himself. The sacrifices that he made just didn't seem worth it anymore.

But in all of his years hunting, Dean had learnt that what he wanted to do and what he needed to two, were often two very different things. That's why he had ended up here by the pond, never feeling more alone in his entire existence.

As he finished the beer he held in his hands, memories of the kiss that he had shared with the Doc came unbidden into his mind. How her warmth had flooded through him, how she had tasted rich and spicy and how her lips had been so silken soft. It was torturous just thinking of it, but Dean was in that kind of dangerous mood where his own health and safety featured a very distant second to indulging in his self pity.

A shadow of a thought started in the corner of Dean's mind, one that made him singularly unhappy. He began to wonder if Sam had stolen the memories of his kiss with the Doc. In his mind he had worked it up to something almost sacred, but the mere idea that Sam now had it, seemed to taint the experience just a little. It was no longer something that he and the Doc shared; it was something now that Sam had stolen from him.

Dean felt his gut twist as a new wave of frustration coursed through him. How would he and Sam ever get past this, more importantly how was he ever going to trust his brother again?

Dean ran his hand roughly through his hair, his thoughts going round in circles, with questions he had no answers for. He cracked open the last of his beers and wished that he had bought more. If he couldn't go be with the Doc, or be in the same place as his brother, then he wished he could get rip roaring drunk. That way a least he could try and blot out the pain that was tearing him apart.

**

* * *

Goodwell, Oklahoma – 7:34 pm**

Sam lay on the bed with his arm thrown over his eyes. He had tried calling Dean, but Dean hadn't picked up his phone. That hadn't really surprised Sam all that much. Dean had been ignoring his call all day, there was no reason why he would start taking them now.

He lay on the bed thinking about what had happened and a deep sense of shame filled him. Dean had given up his life for Sam; the least he could do is give his brother a day. Sam was worried about Dean, nothing like this had ever happened before and he was concerned about what Dean might do.

Sam took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, centring his mind and focusing on thoughts of his brother. His perception rolled out over the land, touching on the life force of the people of Goodwell. He felt a particular centre of activity and anxiety and realised that it was probably the crime scene that Hannah and Dean had discovered, but he pushed beyond that searching for his brother.

When he found Dean, Sam's perception was stretched to its limit. His brother was alone a couple of miles away. That in itself had surprised him, he had half expected that Dean would go to Hannah. He had felt in Dean's mind the intention to break all contact with her, but that had been before. The situation was different now, and Sam had honestly thought that Dean would seek her out if only for comfort.

Sam narrowed his focus trying to get a sense of how Dean was feeling. He and Dean had been through some pretty rough patches, but nothing of this magnitude. As soon as he opened himself up to it, Sam felt Dean's pain. It was acute, centred over his chest and Sam was flooded with guilt at the knowledge that he was responsible for it.

He was tempted to send his apology directly to his brother, but given how he had used his powers earlier, he wasn't sure that would be the best approach. He just didn't want Dean to take off without having the opportunity of apologising to him. He would just have to hope that his brother would return so that he could do it face to face.

Sam pulled his senses back leaving his brother in peace and took a deep breath to try and hold back the tears that were threatening. He squeezed his eyes shut and with thoughts of his mother, he willed sleep to take him.

He found Mary Winchester in almost exactly the same spot as where he had left her this morning, and he felt like such an undeserving cad when she smiled warmly at him.

"What's wrong Sammy, you look upset" Mary Winchester said, concern filling her voice.

"I think I might have blown it Mom. Dean is furious with me." Sam sighed heavily as he sat on the stair next to his mother "I'm not even sure if he'll come back."

Mary Winchester reached around her son to rest her arm comfortingly on his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me what happened."

Sam leant forward resting his head in his hand, too embarrassed to meet his mother's eyes.

"Dean was only supposed to be gone for breakfast, but it turned out that he was gone for most of the day, when he got home I asked him where he had been and he flipped me off. I just got so mad at him that I held him against the wall and had a look at his memories. I didn't mean to do it like that, it just sort of happened."

"And then what happened?" asked Mary gently, smoothing his hair back from his face.

"When I let him go, he hit me and threatened to kill me if I did something like that again."

"He did what?" said Mary, her voice catching in surprise.

"I don't blame him for that Mom." confessed Sam "I was completely out of line."

"Well I do." said Mary his voice filling with righteous indignation "Whatever happens between the two of you, you will always be brothers. Dean has to remember that, even when things don't go his way."

"Mom you don't understand, he and Hannah came across this murderous paedophile in the coffee shop that they were in and they tried to save this little girl but they couldn't."

"What…" questioned Mary, somewhat lost for words.

"Turns out that the little girl died and Hannah went after the guy who did it. She ended up really sick and Dean spent most of the day looking after her."

"I see" said Mary quietly, some of the venom falling from her voice "That is terrible, but it doesn't change the fact that you and Dean are brothers. You have to be there for one and other and look out for each other. That's how the whole family thing works Sam."

"I shouldn't have done it" said Sam quietly feeling the burn of tears threatening to overwhelm him.

"No" said Mary quietly "Perhaps not. Be he shouldn't have left you there either without letting you know what was going on. Really Sam, what would it have taken for him to call and just let you in on it? After all aren't the two of you partners?"

"Yeah we are." said Sam, studying his mother.

"I'm not condoning what you did Sam, I think you were wrong to invade Dean's privacy like that. But I'm not condoning what Dean did either. Being in a partnership means that you have certain responsibilities to each other, I know that Dean knows this. It's what his father taught him."

Sam looked at his mother sitting straighter on the stair, feeling a weight lift of his shoulders.

"Don't worry Sam" said Mary smiling into his face as she cupped his cheek "Your brother loves you, he'll be back."

"I hope your right." said Sam meaningfully.

"What concerns me is how you all ended up in this position in the first place." Mary paused for a moment as if considering her words carefully. "You said that you didn't completely trust this girl, perhaps this is why. Perhaps she is trying to drive a wedge between you and your brother."

"What you think that Hannah planned all this?" said Sam, his voice doubt ridden.

"I don't know." said Mary "Your father is the investigator in the family not me. But don't you think it a little strange that out of all the places they could have met they choose the one place where there happens to be a baby killing with a current victim?"

Mary sighed deeply "And why when they discovered the guy, did Dean not bring you in? That just doesn't sound like him, does it?"

Sam had to agree, it was pretty unusual for Dean not to let him know. Maybe his mother was right, maybe Hannah had orchestrated all of this. For what reason, Sam couldn't quite figure out, he could only hope that she hadn't succeeded.

**

* * *

Guymon, Oklahoma – 7:34 pm**

Hannah listened as the phone dialled, she knew it was probably a little late to be ringing Pat in Boston, but she needed his help with something before she could be satisfied enough to settle down and sleep.

"This is Shaughnessy" said the thick accented voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hi Pat its Hannah."

"Hey!" he replied fondly "How's it going?"

"Alright thanks. How are things with you?"

Pat sighed slightly "Not bad I guess. I heard from Joel earlier today and there is still no sign of Emily, but he and Mario have a lead which sounds promising so we've all got our fingers crossed."

Hannah smiled. She was amazed at how deeply all of the possession victims had bonded. They all kept tabs on one another and made sure they were doing ok. They were virtually there own little support group and in a way she envied them that.

"That's a relief. I hope they find her soon. I worry for her out there on her own." She replied.

"Yeah me too." replied Pat "now that I know what is out there."

"Pat, I need your help with something."

"Sure" replied that man in his long voweled accent. "Anything for you."

Hannah let out her breath in relief; if Pat hadn't been willing to help her she wasn't exactly sure how she'd be able to manage this on her own.

"Can you please patch into the missing persons database and look for a little girl by the name of Amelia. I'm afraid I have no surname for you, but she is probably around the age of five or six, is petite and had light brown hair and blue eyes."

There was silence for a moment and Hannah imagined that Pat was writing all of the details down. "Let me guess, you found her?" said Pat, a note of hope in his voice.

"Yeah I did, but I couldn't save her. I just want to get in touch with her family and let them know that she wasn't alone when she passed away."

"Was it a demon?" Pat asked, his hatred turning his voice hard.

"No. She was killed by something all too human" Hannah replied, suddenly feeling the fatigue that she had been trying to ignore all evening

"I'm sorry Hannah. That's got to be rough." consoled Pat "I'll have a look through the computer and let you know what I come up with."

"Thanks Pat" said Hannah gently "I really appreciate all of your help."

She hung up the phone pulling a comb through her damp hair. Even though her body felt better for having a shower, her spirits were still low. Deep down she wished that Dean hadn't come up with that stupid notion that he was going to protect her by severing all ties, because right now she could use the company.

She spread a fresh towel over her pillow and lay down on the bed, fanning her still wet hair out across the pillow. An old black and white movie flickered on the television set, but it didn't hold her interest.

Her mind replayed the day, over and over again, and she examined every aspect of it to see if she had done something different, would she have been able to change the outcome. Logic told her that there was absolutely nothing that she could have done, but it didn't change the fact that she still felt guilty and helpless.

Hannah ran a scarred finger over her lips as her thoughts turned to the kiss that Dean had given to her. I had been such a surprise, but looking back on it, not an unwelcome one. She knew that nothing could possibly come of it, she and Dean seemed to be perpetually moving in such different directions. But it was amazing to feel like a woman again after all these years.

With her thoughts on Dean, Hannah closed her eyes and reached out for him with her mind. She hadn't done this since Reno and there was a momentary shadow of fear, but somehow, she never had any problems finding Dean, no matter how far away he was. It was one of the peculiarities that had occurred in Patterson and somehow stayed with them.

When she found Dean, Hannah almost winced; he seemed to be in such pain. He had been drinking, she could tell from the disordered thoughts in his mind, but there was something else there, a deep soul churning pain.

Hannah wondered if the day's events were the cause, and her breath caught in her throat at the amount of anguish she could feel within him. There was a lot of anger, but mostly there was a deep and abiding sense of loss.

Hannah felt a compulsion to sooth him, but she didn't want to announce her presence to him, so as subtly as she could she sent him waves of reassurance. She willed stillness to his troubled mind and impressed upon him a sense of hope and camaraderie. A sense that troubles shared were troubles halved.

**

* * *

Goodwell, Oklahoma – 7. 50 pm**

Dean lay on the back seat of the Impala with his jacket rolled up beneath his head. He figured that his beer buzz must be wearing off as a strange sense of clam settle on him.

He felt warmth radiate within him, taking the chill out of the night air around him. His mind had been going around in circles like a dog chasing its tail, but he suddenly had a moment of clarity and he decided he would focus on the one good thing that happened today.

His mind automatically turned to the Doc, and it was like the very thought of her, bought a sense of order and peace into a world that was crashing in around him on all sides. It was true, he would probably never get to see her again in the flesh and that thought troubled him, but there was nothing that he had said about dreaming about her. Surely that couldn't put her in any harms way.

Dean fell asleep with thoughts of the Doc in his mind. His thoughts were so vivid, that at one stage he thought he could even smell her perfume.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**302-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 7.42 am**

Dean lay on the bonnet of his car, watching the sun as it rose over the pond. He had fallen asleep in the back of the Impala, and had woken to a chorus of birds at sunrise. He had gotten out and watched the sun rise, replaying his dreams over in his mind. He had dreamed mostly of the Doc and every time his dream even threatened to turn to something bad or painful, the Doc had stepped in making everything alright, like she had been watching over him.

Dean lay taking in the beauty around him, trying to brace himself for the day ahead. He'd have to go back to the hotel, and the prospect filled him with dread. He didn't want to face Sam, he didn't want to face what had happened, but time was marching on and they still had a legion of demons to find and destroy.

The early morning sun touched his face and warmed his skin like the touch of a lover and he knew what he had to do. Dean had sacrificed everything for the job, so from this point on, he would become the job, he would drive himself day and night getting as many of those hell spawn as he could.

He would go back to Sam and he would be professional, but as for their personal relationship, that would take a little more time. It was the only way that Dean could fathom even getting through the next three hundred days without running mad.

Reluctantly he sat up and slid off the bonnet of the car, slipping into the driver's seat and starting the car up so that it growled. Dean backed up and navigated his way back out onto the main road.

As he drove into town, his insides turned to stone as his resolved kicked in. He would do his job, then he would pay on his marker. It was what John Winchester had done, and it would be the same for Dean.

He drove into the hotel car park and parked the car out the front of the hotel room that he had shared with Sam. Opening the door quietly, Dean looked across the darkened room to where Sam was sleeping.

Despite the vow to keep everything business like, the image of his brother sleeping so peacefully hit him like a blow in the chest. This was his brother, the man who he had given his life to protect. He couldn't deny the fact that he loved him, no matter what Sam did, he probably always would. But that didn't mean that he had to like him terrible much right about now.

Dean fished around in his duffel for a fresh set of clothes and went into the bathroom to shower and clean up. He would be eager to get out of Goodwell and try and put the events that happen in this little town far behind him.

Sam was woken from his sleep, with a firm hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Dean there. He was wearing different clothes and his hair was damp from the shower.

"Sam, get up. Hit the shower and then pack your stuff. I want to be on the road in fifteen."

Dean's words were cold and hard like a command from a superior officer. Sam watched him for a moment as he busied himself re packing his duffle.

"Dean" he said his words full of relief. "Where have you been? I was getting really worried."

"I was out" said Dean sharply "Now stow the questions and get moving alright."

Before Sam could say anything more, Dean had slung his duffle over his shoulder and headed out the door to the Impala. So that was how it was going to be, Dean would avoid the topic and try and distance himself from what happened. Sam sighed heavily and slid off the bed, he wasn't going to press the issue now; he'd wait until he and Dean were on the road.

Sam showered quickly and packed up his gear. Looking up at the clock it was just past 8:15 and he noted that Dean had already packed the majority of the gear in the Impala with the exception of Sam's duffel. As Sam went out to the car, he saw Dean walking back from the check in office.

"You ready?" he said harshly, not making eye contact with Sam.

"Yeah" said Sam tossing his duffel on the back seat.

"Well get in" said Dean irritably as he opened up the door and slid into the drivers seat.

Again Sam sighed and slid in next to his brother. Dean very determinedly avoided his eyes and focused on driving them out of there.

"Where are we headed?" questioned Sam, trying to keep his tone mild, but getting slightly irritated at his brother's brusque attitude.

"Town." said Dean in a clipped voice "I have a quick errand I need to run before we leave."

"Are you meeting up with Hannah?" questioned Sam, feeling his control start to slip slightly.

"You're the psychic Sam, you tell me." hissed Dean, his shoulders coming up defensively.

Sam breathed out heavily; he could feel his brother's anger, just beneath the surface beating at him.

"Are we going to talk about this?" he asked, watching Dean's stony face.

"About what?" said Dean in his deliberately clipped tone.

"Come on man" said Sam tiredly "About what happened last night?"

"No" said Dean in a voice that brokered no opportunity for refusal, but Sam ignored it.

"Dean…."

Sam didn't even get to finish what he was going to say, when Dean cut him off. His response was explosive and full of the resentment that had been sitting deep within him all night.

"No Sam" he bit out "Just because you have all of these high and mighty powers doesn't give you the right to force yourself into other people's heads."

Sam sat a little taller in his seat determined to face his brother's wrath "A couple of months ago, you would have told me what had happened."

Dean turned his eyes on his brother cold and hard "You know something Sam, a couple of months ago you would have given me the chance to when I was good and ready."

Sam fidgeted under Dean's intense gaze, he had meant to just come out and apologise, but Dean's belligerent attitude, mixed with what his mother had said to him, made him feel a little more justified in what he did.

"None of this would have happened if you had just called me in the first place Dean." He said, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice.

Dean's eyebrow rose in shock "Whoa! So was that why you were really pissed at me, because I didn't call?" Dean huffed in incredulity "Be damn thankful that I didn't brother, because now you'll be able to sleep at night without images of a rapped and tortured five year old haunting your sleep."

Sam slumped in his seat feeling immediately contrite "You didn't have to go through this on your own."

Dean looked sharply away from his brother, unable to stomach thinking about this anymore. "I didn't" he said finally, and felt a familiar pain in his chest every time his thoughts turned to the Doc.

Sam was going to bring up his mother's suspicions with Dean, but he could feel that now was not the appropriate time. If he did, Dean would likely throw him out of the car and then where would he be. He decided it would be more prudent to wait until Dean was in a more rational frame of mind, so he kept a wise silence, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.

As the Impala pulled into town, Dean pulled into a parking space, and without even looking at Sam, he issued the command to wait in the car before slipping out and jogging across the road.

Dean hurried over to the coffee shop. He had no idea what compelled him back to this place, but he was definitely under some compulsion to come back here. As he opened the door, he saw Ruthie and smiled, and spotted Abe, sitting in the same booth that he had been yesterday.

"Morning" he said to the old man, who looked up at him beneath his long grey eyebrows.

"Well I'll be damned." said Abe smiling and offering Dean a seat across from him. "I was almost sure that you wouldn't be back."

"Why?" said Dean with a smile, getting the most unbelievable sense of comfort just form the old man's presence.

"Call it a hunch" said Abe with a cheeky smile.

"Can I get you some coffee." said Ruthie sidling up beside them, and Dean looked up into her smiling face, remembering what the Doc had said. She smiled even with all of her worries and when he smiled back at her, he felt a kinship with this small town waitress.

"Yeah, can I get two to go please." said Dean and watched as Ruthie nodded and hustled off to get them.

"Well you must be just about the luckiest reporter of all time." said Abe taking a sip of his coffee and watching Dean over the brim.

"How'd you figure?" questioned Dean, smiling at the coy expression on the old man's face.

"I'm sure you know by now that they found Orson Hanice with a dead little girl in his basement. I figured as a reporter you would have jumped at something like that."

Dean screwed up his face and averted his eyes. Orson Hanice, he had never bothered to think that the monster that had killed that child could possibly have a name.

"Nah" said Dean "Child homicide isn't my thing. That sort of stuff just turns my stomach. I was actually just heading off and wanted to drop in and say bye."

Abe studied Dean for a long moment, with his eyes that had become slightly milky with age.

"It was you, wasn't it" he finally said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Dean looked momentarily horrified, before he allowed his affable mask to fall back in to place. "Excuse me?" he said almost choking on the words.

"You were the one who found out about Orson." replied Abe with a smile of certainty touching his lips.

Dean tried to smile, but the expression failed "I don't know…." But he didn't finish as he saw Abe shaking his head.

"Don't worry son." said Abe, putting a gnarled hand over Dean's "I'll take that little piece of knowledge to the grave."

Dean smiled, surprised by the old man's gesture.

"How did you know?" he asked

Abe shifted in his seat, pushing his newspaper to one side.

"No one takes notice of an old man like me. Most of the town thinks I'm nuttier than a fruitcake, but sitting here, I see everything. I saw you watching Orson all the while when you were here with me, and when you weren't interested in this story. I knew you weren't a reporter. No reporter in their right mind would miss the opportunity to report on this story. This has the potential of being a career making story."

Dean smiled knowingly. The old man's body was stooped and bent, but his mind was absolutely as sharp as a razor.

"I tell you what, for an old fella, nothing gets by you." said Dean affectionately.

"I don't know what it is you really do Dean. But you did a good thing here. I watched that man for years and he wouldn't have ever stopped."

Abe patted Dean's hand slightly and then pulled his hands back to rest on the table.

"You knew?" questioned Dean watching the old man closely.

"No" said Abe sadly "Not really, I just knew something wasn't quite right about him. I just couldn't quite put my finger on it."

Dean nodded hearing the self deprecation in the man's voice.

"Here you go Sweetie." said Ruthie as she put two tall foam cups on the table in front of Dean.

Dean looked up and smiled at her, reaching in to his wallet to pull out enough money to pay for the coffee, and whatever Abe was having. He just sort of signalled his wish to her with his eyes, and Ruthie nodded in understanding.

"All right old timer" said Dean giving the man a gentle chuck on the shoulder. "I better hit the road. You take care of yourself ok."

With that Dean stood, picking up the coffees. Abe had given him the closest thing he had ever gotten to a thank you for doing his job and it couldn't have come at a better time. He needed to know that he was making a difference, it was one thing to think it for yourself and quite another for it to be affirmed by someone else. He smiled at Ruthie as he left and headed out of the coffee shop.

As he approached the door, he could see two people walking up to it, and as the door opened, Dean saw a tall man with ebony skin, followed by a shorter white man. Dean's brain slowed down, as if he saw everything in slow motion. He knew the man almost instantly and he saw the moment of recognition occur on the face of the dark skinned man.

'_Hendrickson'_

Dean fought down and initial sense of panic, his gut taking over. He dropped the coffees he was carrying and charged at the two men in the door, collecting Hendrickson around the waist and pushing him back. The man Hendrickson was with fell away in surprise; all the while Hendrickson yelled instructions as Dean tackled him to the ground.

Dean didn't stop, didn't bother looking back, as soon as he felt Hendrickson's legs go from under him, he let him fall to the pavement and used the momentum he had generated to run right over him. Cars were parked all along the street, but instead of trying to run between them, Dean leapt, hitting the bonnet of a Buick that was parked outside the Diner and sliding all the way across.

He hit the ground running, not looking up as the squeal of tyres told him just how close he had come to being hit by a car. The commotion had prompted Sam to shift into the driver's seat and the Impala's engine was already running. Again Dean used his momentum, leaping and tucking his legs sideways so that he slid across the Impala's hood on his hip.

He heard the shot whiz passed his head, but he didn't slow his paced, he just hit the pavement and dived into the passenger side door. The Impala was in motion well before Dean even had a chance to close the door and he leaned out awkwardly to catch the flailing door as Sam sent the car flying down the street.

The squeal of tyres behind them heralded that Hendrickson was in pursuit. Dean looked back to see the black Lincoln come rapidly up behind them.

"Go, Go, Go" he yelled at Sam, as he saw Hendrickson, leaning out of the passenger window, his gun clearly in view. Dean reached over and pulled at Sam's shoulder, trying to get him lower in the seat. If Hendrickson shot at them, he didn't want Sam to catch a stray bullet.

* * *

Hannah had no idea why she had come back to Goodwell, for some reason she felt compelled to come back to the Diner on the main street. She wasn't quite sure if it was wishful thinking that she might run into Dean there, or if she had to go in and make sure that there weren't anymore monsters lurking.

As she pulled up to the intersection where she needed to turn, she saw the Impala driving wildly down the street. She reached out for Dean, and felt a sharp spike of fear course through him. She got the impression that they were being hunted, and if they were caught it would be dire for both he and Sam.

The Lincoln following them swerved in and out of view briefly and Hannah could see a man leaning out of the passenger's window with a gun. At that point, instinct took over; she held her foot on the break, while pressing hard on the gas. If she was going to do what she intended it would all be about timing, and if she did it wrong she could kill them all.

Thankfully Michael had taught her to be a good driver. Her brother and her had done endurance challenges and rallies all across Europe and she had really good instincts behind the wheel of a car.

Mentally Hannah timed the point when the Impala would be past her, and as soon as she was confident of it, she let her foot off the brake and sent her car careening into the intersection. The Lincoln hit her squarely on the front section of her car, the impact pushing her car around, and causing the airbag to blow.

Hannah felt it all the way down to her bones, but thankfully, she had been prepared so she had braced herself to try and minimise the damage of the impact. She saw the Impala, slow down slightly, but with a firm push, she impressed upon Dean to get out of there.

Dean didn't see the Focus until the very last second. He was busy watching the Lincoln behind them, so that when the Focus drove wildly into the intersection, it was a complete shock to him. There was an almightily clash as metal struck metal, and as the Focus was turned around by the force of the impact. Dean caught sight of the driver before the airbags blew.

"Doc" he screamed in realisation, and instinctively Sam jumped on the breaks, working out was must have happened as he looked in the rear view mirror.

'_GO, Dean GO!'_

* * *

Dean heard the Doc's voice firmly in his head. Every fibre within him wanted to get out and make sure that she was ok, but he knew he couldn't. He knew he would have to trust her and just keep going.

"Drive Sam" he said urgently "Now"

Dean starred out the window as the tangle of Focus and Lincoln got smaller in the rear view. He took a moment to look across at Sam, whose face was set in grim determined lines. There was acute tension in the car, but not between the brothers, merely at how close that call was.

Sam made a B line for the interstate. He wanted to get across the state lines in case the Feds had the locals looking for them now.

Dean spun around in his seat, unable to see the accident anymore. He pulled on his seat belt cursing his own stupidity.

"Damn it" he hissed, hitting a fist against the dashboard. "I'm so stupid."

"Come on Dean" said Sam tightly "You couldn't have known."

"I should have Sam" hissed Dean hitting his hand again against the dashboard. "I knew he was abducting girls from other states. I worked that out last night, but I should have realised that would make it a federal case. I am so damn stupid."

Sam glanced over at Dean. He could feel the adrenaline and anxiety rolling off him in waves. Dean was worried for the Doc, so much so that Sam could feel his brother's fear deep in his gut.

"She's alright Dean." he said gently, but Dean wouldn't look at him. He ran an agitated hand through his hair.

"Now Hendrickson has her, it won't take him long to find a connection between us." Dean said his voice was haunted by hopelessness.

"Don't worry" said Sam "Hannah's smart and she's powerful. She knows how to take care of herself."

Dean looked at the countryside as it passed them, praying that Sam was right.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**302-Days**

**Goodwell, Oklahoma – 11:38 am**

Hannah sat in the small interview room in the Goodwell police station nursing her cup of coffee. The paramedics had managed to keep the Feds away from her for most of the morning, but when she had declined to be taken to hospital, there was nothing more that they can do. Her neck was stiff and sore, and her chest felt like a herd of elephants had run across it where the air bag has struck her, but all of her injuries were minor, so it was well worth it to give Sam and Dean the opportunity to get away.

As soon as the paramedics had left her, the Feds swooped down on her. The one she had heard called Hendrickson had one arm in a sling and a wound on his head, while the other agent in the car, had received a solid smack on the head, despite having an airbag. Hannah had seen them both and as banged up as they were, both had refused to be taken to the hospital.

Hendrickson had asked the locals to bring Hannah in for questioning and here she sat waiting for them in the solitude of the interview room. Hannah had thickened her accent, and apologised profusely to anyone who would listen. For all intents and purposes, she played at being the foreigner who made and error on unfamiliar roads and caused the accident quite unintentionally.

The Goodwell police, when they had the chance, looked at her slightly sympathetically, but she could tell by their demeanour and their energy, that most of them were completely absorbed by the child murder case. She overheard one of the officers talking about how dogs had been bought in and more remains had been discovered in the flower beds of the backyard.

They must have discovered that Amelia's death was just the tip of the iceberg. No doubt that was why the FBI had been sent in. As Hannah's thoughts turned to Amelia, she thought about her poor parents. Surely they would have been told by now about the fate of their child and Hannah grieved for them. She had lost her family to a monster, and she had known all the while what was happening, the not knowing must be excruciating.

That was why she was so eager to get to them, just to let them know that Amelia hadn't died alone. Given the brutality of the attack, Amelia's passing had been really peaceful; her last thoughts that of her parents and a rag doll named Molly. It would most likely be cold comfort for them, but Hannah felt compelled at least to try.

Pat had come through for her, calling her early this morning with the details of Amelia's family. After she was done here, she would make her way to the family's home in Kansas and try and speak with them. That was, if she ever did manage to get out of here.

The sound of the door dragged her attention up and she looked in the dark face of a man who was barely containing his rage. Even if she wasn't psychic, his body language spoke of the wrath just settled beneath the surface.

"I am so sorry" Hannah said rapidly, letting her accent curl around the vowels as she spoke "I hope I didn't injure you or your partner too seriously. I'll see that all the damage is taken care of."

"Quiet." snapped Hendrickson, using his good hand to massage his head as if it hurt him.

"Dr Riordan, you are in some pretty serious trouble here, so I suggest that you cooperate with me."

"Trouble?" Hannah said letting and edge of panic touch her voice "I should be insured, I took out additional insurance when I rented the car…."

"Don't play with me Dr Riordan" Hendrickson's said coldly pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. His eyes never wavered from her face, and Hannah was careful to look appropriately intimidated.

"I'm sorry I don't understand?" she said quietly, reaching for her coffee cup and allowing her hand to shake slightly.

"You're a long way from home Dr Riordan. Why don't you tell me why you're in Goodwell?"

Hendrickson's voice was cold, calculating. Hannah could feel that it was instinct that was driving him. He had a subtle gut feeling that she was connected to the Winchester's, but as yet he had no proof so he was trying to intimidate her into making a mistake and confirming his suspicions. This was going to make it tricky for her to dissuade him, but equally if she could put forward a plausible enough excuse, he might not go digging too much deeper.

"I'm doing a study on colonial folk lore and I was going to Panhandle University, to consult with their faculty on some local lore." Hannah let herself choke on the words, giving the appearance that she was fighting back tears. In her experience, men like Hendrickson had little time for sobbing women. She also pushed an impression of fear onto Hendrickson. Being unaffected by his intimidation ploy, would only antagonise him further.

At that moment the door opened and Hendrickson's partner walked in, carrying two cups of coffee. He had a large gauze bandage over a cut on his head, and he moved rather gingerly and when his eyes studied Hannah, she turned her liquid eyes to him and mouthed and apology, looking for all the world like at any moment she was going to burst in to tears.

"Where you scheduled to meet with anyone at the University?" asked Hendrickson gratefully accepting the cup from his partner.

Hannah looked between the two men, letting them see the fear on her face "No, I had nothing scheduled but I know the Dean of the Liberal Arts Department. We met the year before last at a conference in Seattle. I had planned to prevail on my acquaintance with her and get some introduction to other members of the faculty."

Hendrickson looked at her in disbelief. "Really?" he said with a subtle hint of sarcasm. "What's her name?"

"Professor Wanda Minard" said Hannah looking wide eyed between the two men appearing close to panic. Internally she was thanking her lucky stars that Wanda's name had come to mind as she watched Hendrickson's partner jot down the details as she spoke. There was nothing like helping along a lie with a liberal dose of the truth.

"What is this all about?" Hannah asked sounding suddenly desperate "I know I was the cause of the accident and I am fully prepared to take full responsibility for it. Am I going to be charged with negligent driving or something? Because it was an honest mistake, I recently got back from London and had a momentary lapse of concentration. I forgot what side of the road I was driving on and I looked the wrong way, I am so dreadfully sorry…"

Hannah let the words slip out at a rapid pace, talking like she was having nothing but a complete stream of consciousness.

"Well your lapse in concentration let a callous murderer slip away." hissed Hendrickson.

Hannah tried to make herself visibly pale and sat back in her seat as if the news had shocked her in to silence. It wasn't too hard to do, the news had shocked her, but she was already contemplating that there must be some huge misunderstanding going on.

"What?" she stammered, letting her hand go to her throat.

"In the car that we were pursuing was a guy that I have been after for over a year now, a real sick and twisted individual that likes to tie women up and torture them before his kills them." said Hendrickson coldly, taking satisfaction at the visible surprise on Hannah's face.

"I...I…I didn't hear a siren." said Hannah lamely, as if this somehow might excuse her.

"Did you know that there was a child found murdered here yesterday. Tied up and tortured to death." spat Hendrickson.

"I heard something about it on the radio but…" Hannah spoke letting her voice fall away.

Hendrickson had deliberately left out that they had found the perpetrator of the child's death, but Hannah could feel the truth swirling through his mind. The man knew that Dean hadn't killed that child, but he suspected that the Winchester's were involved in some way. That they happened to be in the same place at the same time was just a little too coincidental for his liking.

Hannah began flooding the room with impressions of doubt. She had made her fear almost tangible, and she could see by the uncomfortable way that Hendrickson's partner moved, that he truly believed that the accident was exactly as she said it was.

Hendrickson pulled out a file that had been sitting on the table. Opening it, he slid it across the table at Hannah with disdain. Inside were two mug shots and looking at them Hannah had to seriously curb the instinct to smile.

In his Sam, looked straight faced and serious, but when Hannah looked at Dean's he was pulling a face in it like he didn't have a care in the world. She was careful not to show any sign of recognition when she looked up questioningly at the two men sitting across from her.

"You recognise ether of these men?" said Hendrickson, studying her intensely.

Hannah shook her head looking briefly back down at the photos and then meeting Hendrickson's eye "No" she all but whispered, continuing to look wide eyed at the two agents.

"So if I asked around town, if you had been seen with either one of these men, no one would say that they saw you?"

Hannah felt her stomach drop slightly, she knew that she could influence these two who were in close proximity to her, but there was no way that she could influence the whole town. She pushed on Hendrickson's mind to see if he already knew that she had been with Dean yesterday, but he didn't know for certain.

"I don't know how they could?" said Hannah dismissively "I've never seen either of these men before."

Once she had finished speaking she impressed upon them sincerity and truth. Hendrickson, rubbed at his head unconsciously and Hannah realised that this man probably had some latent ability that was feeding him, so she pushed harder confident that she was stronger in her gifts.

Hendrickson and his partner exchanged looks, silently communicating their thoughts, and then Hannah saw Hendrickson's and his partner rise.

"Forgive me for asking" said Hannah making her voice sound nervous and unsure "But am I under arrest?"

"Not yet Dr Riordan" said Hendrickson, but it lacked the intensity that he had when he first started their conversation "We need to check on a couple of things now, but we'll be back."

The two agents left Hannah waiting in the room, she could feel there energy just beyond the door as they exchanged words in hushed tones. With them out of the room, she could really release her powers and her eyes glowed silver briefly as she continued to push the impression of innocence to them, building on their doubts and making them uncomfortable about keeping her here.

Looking back at the closed door Hendrickson's partner pulled up short looking up at his colleague with a clear question in his eye. "I think she's legit. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm starting to agree with you." said Hendrickson, again rubbing at his head in agitation. "But to be sure, check out her contact in the university. If it pans out, cut her loose."

The man nodded and moved to hurry off down the hall. "Hey" called Hendrickson "The locals spot them at all?"

The man looked up sadly for a moment. "Afraid not." he said with a defeated shrug. "It was like they just vanished into thin air."

"Sly little pricks" muttered Hendrickson as he stalked off down the hall in the other direction.

**

* * *

Norton, Kansas – 12:51 pm**

The brother's had driven hard, almost in complete silence. Sam had taken them on a winding journey through the lesser roads of Kansas. Even so, they had made good time. They would hit Nebraska within the hour and if they continued in the way they were going and they could reach South Dakota that evening. Bobby kept a hunting cabin near the Angustora Reservoir and if they made it there, then they could lie low for a couple of days, until the heat died down.

Sam drove hard, but not so fast that they would unnecessarily drew attention to themselves. Every now and then he would look over worriedly at Dean, who sat in the passenger's seat. Dean looked between his phone and the scenery passing outside trying to will Hannah to make contact, but as yet his phone had remained silent.

The only stops they made had been for gas and even then it had been done in virtual silence. Close calls were expected doing what they did, it was something of an occupational hazard, but this seemed different, it felt different.

As Dean had fled he had almost been certain that he wouldn't make it out of there, and if Hannah hadn't been there, the fact was, the brother's probably wouldn't have. They had given Hendrickson the slip twice, but that only seemed to fuel his need to recapture them. Both Winchesters had felt that, the almost maniacal desperation of the agent as he hung from his car waving a gun at them.

That kind of thing just didn't happen. It may happen on TV and in the movies, but in real life, if there was any possible risk to the public, the feds and cops wouldn't pull their guns, but Hendrickson had.

"We may need to garage the Impala for a while." said Sam, not taking his eyes from the road as he drove.

"Yeah" said Dean, but his voice was completely non-committal.

"We should probably change the licence plate too." said Sam, but Dean didn't respond.

His brother wasn't currently angry at him. In fact Sam could feel relief within Dean that they had both managed to get away. Dean had focused everything within him on worrying over Hannah, and Sam could sense the restlessness within him. If the Doc didn't ring soon, then Dean was going to risk it and call her.

**

* * *

Goodwell, Oklahoma – 1:09 pm**

Hendrickson, slammed his fist down hard as he listened to reports from agents and locals in the field that told him that the Winchesters had undoubtedly slipped through his finger again.

The local Goodwell police eyed him nervously, and deliberately avoided making eye contact with him. He had spent the last hour in with the man found at the scene of little Amelia Coombs' murder and he had come away from it feeling like he had just swum through an oil slick.

This guy was definitely one sick fuck, and the reports from the field indicated that they were still finding more bodies, buried strategically under the flowerbeds at the man's house. The one thing Hendrickson was unable to get out of the man, was his relationship to Dean Winchester. When he had shown Orson Hanice Dean's picture, the man had looked at it, without even the merest hint of recognition.

This didn't track with Hendrickson, and he hated things that puzzled him. If nothing else the Winchester brothers puzzled him. He saw his partner approach slightly sheepishly.

"The Doctor's story checks out. She did meet this Professor Minard in Seattle a while back, and I spoke to a couple of the locals, and none of them ever remember seeing her around before." he said, glancing briefly at his notes.

"Fine" hissed Hendrickson through his teeth "Get her out of here but next time, strenuously recommend that she take the bus."

Hendrickson's partner smiled slightly and hurried off to do as he was told. Hendrickson was a hard ass at the best of time, but wounded, he was nearly down right impossible.

Hannah looked up as the door opened and she saw the agent who had been interviewing her earlier stick his head around the door.

"You can go Dr Riordan" he said in an almost bored voice "This time, try and remember which side of the road you're supposed to be driving on."

"Yes, of course." Hannah said rapidly collecting her things and standing up. "Would you happen to know where they took my car? All of my research and belongings are in it, and I need to find the number to call the rental place."

The agent rolled his eyes as if to suggest that he had a dozen more pressing issues than her petty problems. "Check with the officer at the front desk. They'll be able to tell you where it is."

"Thank you." said Hannah grateful to finally be getting out of there. "Once again, I am really sorry."

The agent nodded in acknowledgement then disappeared as Hannah made her way to the front desk.

As Hannah walked out towards the front desk, she was surprised to see the waitress from the Diner and an old man waiting in the reception area. As she got close, the waitress looked up and smiled at her, signalling to the older man with a gentle hand on his arm.

The older man, looked towards her beneath his eyebrows, and Hannah was flooded with the impression that he was there to help her. As she moved close she saw him rise, his old frame bent nearly double under the weight of his many years.

"Are you alright Miss?" said the old man his eyes sparkling with a deep seated insight. "Ruthie and I saw the accident from the Diner and we just wanted to make certain that you were alright."

"Thank you" she Hannah slightly taken back, that the two locals would take such and interest. "That's very considerate of you."

"If there is anything that we can do to help" said Ruthie, looking with gentle eyes between Abe and Hannah "we would really like to. We know you're not from around here and an accident like that can really shake you up."

Hannah smiled at the pair, feeling suddenly grateful to have a couple of friendly faces after dealing with the hostility of the federal agents.

"Well right now I need to get my things out of the car and then I'll have to call the rental company." replied Hannah.

"Your car has probably be towed to the impound. We can give you a ride down there, and then we can take you into town if you like." said the old man, watching Hannah intently.

"That would be wonderful" said Hannah feeling genuinely grateful "But only if it is no inconvenience."

The old man shuffled towards the young officer at the front desk. "Frank, was this nice lady's car towed to the impound?" he asked with a subtle air of authority.

The young officer looked up briefly "Sure was Abe" he replied amiably "I'll just need to get Dr Riordan to sign a few papers and then I'll arrange for someone to take her down."

"Don't worry about it Frank" said Abe "Ruthie and I can give her a ride."

The young police officer looked up slightly surprised by the old man's response. "Suit yourself." He said with a subtle shrug.

While the young officer finished writing up the paperwork, the old man turned to Hannah and held out his gnarled hand to her.

"Dr Riordan, I'm Abe McHerney and this here is the very long suffering Ruthie."

Hannah took his hand in hers and at the contact, she immediately felt pain. Not a sharp pain, but a long suffering dull ache. This man had arthritis and it was ravaging his body, he resolutely pushed the pain aside, but it was intense enough for Hannah to get an impression of it.

"Hannah Riordan. How do you do?" replied Hannah, trying not to wince at the old man's pain.

"We just wanted to make sure that you knew that there are some really nice people in this town." said Ruthie, with the briefest look over Hannah's shoulder where the Feds were all milling about their business.

"Well it certainly is very kind of you." said Hannah "And after I did such a foolish thing. I'm just glad that no one was seriously injured."

The young officer looked up "Dr Riordan" he said holding out a pen for her to sign the papers that was on the clip board in his other hand. "Just read through this and sign where I've put a cross."

Hannah scanned the documents with her eyes and then put her signature on the forms and handed them back to the officer.

"You'll need a copy of this voucher to reclaim your vehicle and the rental company will need this pink copy of the police report for insurance purposes."

Hannah smiled and thanked him as he handed her the copies of the documents. Then she turned and faced the two smiling locals and all three of them headed for the door.

Ruthie's car was parked a little way down the street and Hannah and Ruthie walked either side of Abe, who shuffled along.

Ruthie and Hannah helped Abe into the passenger's seat, then Hannah slid into the seat behind him.

"I can't thank you enough for your help.' said Hannah as she strapped herself in.

"Really it was the least that we could do after the way that you and Dean helped our town." said Abe

Hannah's jaw dropped slightly and the old man chuckled catching her expression in the side mirror of the car.

"Don't worry" said Abe, quickly trying to soothe her "I only told Ruthie here, and that was only to get her to drop me down here."

"How did you know?" said Hannah in a breathless whisper, still too shocked to form a full sentence.

"Actually I guessed." said the old man with a smile "But Dean confirmed that he was involved to me this morning and I guessed if he was, you probably were too."

Hannah smiled "You know Dean?" she asked again surprised by the old man's words.

"Not really" he said "He was kind enough to give the time of day to an old man like me. That speaks a lot about his character. I don't know why the FBI are after him, but I'm a pretty good judge of character and I'd stake my life on it that they have the wrong man."

"Robby was saying that the FBI, think that he is someway involved in that little girls death." said Ruthie and there was a hint of doubt.

"In a way he was Ruthie." said Abe adamantly "But not in the way they think. Remember you can't breathe a word of this to Robby. He might be you husband, but I'm your best customer and you gave me your word."

"It's alright" said Ruthie patting the old man affectionately "I promise I won't say a thing."

Hannah watched the exchange between the two, sensing genuine love and affection between them. Ruthie thought of Abe like a father figure and in turn, Abe worried for Ruthie in a paternal way.

Abe looked in the side mirror scrutinising Hannah as they drove through town. "What I want to know is how did you know? About Orson I mean? I've seen that man come into the Diner nearly every week for the last seven years and I knew something was off about him, but I could never figure it out. You two are in there for five minutes and you manage to expose him…How?"

Hannah sighed, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Honestly Abe, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Well I believe that your boyfriend is innocent of whatever the Feds want him for, so why don't you try me?" he said.

Hannah wondered for a moment if she should trust these two with the truth. They were being so nice to her and they had already worked out, that she and Dean had somehow been involved in catching Amelia's killer, she wondered if telling them the whole truth would really hurt that much.

Closing her eye briefly she reached out with her mind, trying to get a better fix on their intentions. In all honesty, Ruthie didn't care, she was only here to help Abe, but Abe had a deep seated curiosity. There was no malicious intent there, but there was a hint of frustration because his didn't know that answer.

"Alright" said Hannah feeling like she at least owed them both a partial explanation "I guess you could call me a psychic."

Hannah heard Ruthie take in a sharp inhalation of breath.

"Like a Uri Gellar kind of psychic?" she asked her eyes growing wide in the rear view mirror.

"Sort of" said Hannah "I work in a slightly different way though."

She waited for the scepticism to seep into both Ruthie and Abe's expressions, but to her surprise, both seemed to accept it without question.

"When that man came into the Diner, he was so angry and full of so much rage; he was projecting it at me like a big neon sign." Hannah explained "When I had a closer look at it I caught site of Amelia in his mind, and I knew we needed to do something."

"Wow" whispered Ruthie quietly in astonishment, but Abe seemed remarkably un-phased by this.

"You don't seem surprised by this Abe." Questioned Hannah, intrigued by his stoic response.

"At my age nothing surprises me" he said with a subtle hint of a smile "I was on the job long enough to know that there were more things in this world than I could ever hope to explain."

"You were a police officer?" Hannah asked in surprise.

"I was the Texas County chief of police for almost twenty seven years." He said with an air of pride in his voice.

"So" stammered Ruthie still amazed at the prospect "You can tell what people are thinking?"

"Sometimes" said Hannah "I try not to intrude on peoples privacy too much, but it can be very difficult."

"What am I thinking now?" said Ruthie with an air of excitement.

Hannah closed her eyes and took in a slow breath. It wasn't that hard to get a sense of what the waitress was feeling, but Hannah wanted to be cautious about revealing the extent of her powers to these two. It could very well prove dangerous for both of them to know.

"You're wondering if I can really read your thoughts, and if I actually can, you want to introduce me to your husband." Hannah strategically left out the bit about trying to find out if he was having an affair, just in case Ruthie didn't want to make that public knowledge.

If possible Ruthie's jaw dropped a little lower "Wow" she said in utter amazement and Hannah had to hide her smile.

"Were you born like that?" Ruthie asked looking at her briefly in the rear view mirror.

"No" replied Hannah honestly "I developed it later in life."

Hannah was grateful when they pulled in to the impound, as much as she believed that these people deserved some form of explanation, she had gone into as much detail as she was comfortable with and was glad of the distraction. As they pulled up, Hannah jumped out of the car to look at her beaten up Ford Focus.

She sighed as she went over to the car looking at the damage. It really was a miracle that she wasn't injured because the front of the vehicle was an absolute mess. The car would most likely be totalled, the base frame would have been bent and no repairer would touch it.

"Hey Joe" waved Abe to the portly fellow who came out of the office.

"How's it going Abe?" said Joe congenially and nodded an acknowledgement to Ruthie.

"We came down to get Dr Riordan's things" said Abe eyeing the wreck carefully "If there is anything left of them."

Joe smiled broadly at the old man. "You sure as hell did a number on this one lady."

Hannah turned and smiled politely at the stocky man dressed in coveralls. "I did, didn't I?"

She pulled the paperwork out of her purse and handed the man the coupon "I was told I needed to give you this?"

Without even looking at it Joe took it and folded it up, putting it in the top pouch of his coveralls. He then pulled out a key and handed it to Hannah, so that she could remove her things from the trunk.

Ruthie helped her transfer her stuff to the other car as Joe and Abe, talked idly for a while. After they were done Hannah turned to the portly tow truck driver with her most endearing smile.

"Could I trouble you to use your phone? I would just like to call the rental company and let them know where the vehicle is."

Joe took of his baseball cap, rubbing his receding hairline before replacing the cap back on his head "Sure" he said "Phones in the office; help yourself."

Hannah went back to the office, ignoring the piles of paper all over the desk and the half eaten sandwich sitting in the middle. She called the rental agency and informed them of the accident, then she utilised the fax machine to send them a copy of the police report before hanging up.

The car rental place had been a little stand offish about the accident until Hannah happily payed the insurance excess. Then they were only too eager to replace her car for her. Luckily for her they had an agent in Guymon who would likely have a car she could use.

When Hannah walked back outside Joe, Abe and Ruthie were all chatting, speculating over the Orson Hanice case. When she approached the tight circle all their eyes turned to her.

"The rental company told me that I wasn't covered for the tow, so what do I owe you?" she asked reaching for her wallet.

"Nothing" said the portly man in an even voice "A friend of Abe's is a friend of mine."

Hannah's eyebrow rose up in surprise "Really? That's very generous of you."

"It's no biggy" said Joe, but a touch of colour came to his cheeks and he kicked at the ground distractedly.

"You've got it all sorted out then?" asked Abe

"I think so. The rental agency is arranging for another car for me in Guymon, so if I could trouble you for a lift in to town, I'll get a taxi to Guymon from there."

Ruthie's faced creased just for a moment "We can give you a ride to Guymon. It's only a few miles."

"Oh no." said Hannah not wishing to inconvenience the kind locals any further "It well out of your way and you've already been very kind."

"Rhubarb." said Abe sternly "I wouldn't mind me a trip to Guymon, and Ruthie and I got nowhere else we need to be right now."

Hannah smiled at the pair. They were truly generous souls, who were eager to help a stranger. It was a rare quality, or so Hannah had thought, but Goodwell seemed to have it in spades.

Hannah thanked Joe, and the trio slipped back into the car. As they drove, Hannah got the sense that Ruthie was eager to ask her something but seemed reluctant. It was obvious what was on her mind, but she didn't honestly want to intrude.

Hannah would have been more than happy to help, the only problem was, is that she couldn't tell if Robby was having an affair or not. She didn't know him personally and she was pretty sure they had never met. Hannah closed her eyes instead focusing her attention on the tiny life-force that was growing within Ruthie.

Hannah had never attempted anything like this before, and she found the experience strangely unsettling. The tiny being felt a lot like animals do, where they don't think in specifics, rather in concepts and base emotions. The tiny life instinctively knew that she was there, and in an expression of total trust and innocence opened itself completely to her.

It's concept of its own existence was so, innocent, that it was almost alien to Hannah and she had to take a moment to change her mind set. But the baby seemed strong, both physically and mentally and Hannah got a strong impression of a very masculine stubbornness that made her smile. The little boy, had a firm understanding of the connection that it shared with his mother, and he often felt what she did, without the benefit of understanding the situation his mother found herself in.

Hannah allowed herself to flood the baby with her own amazement and she pushed all of the positive emotions that she felt towards the tiny thing. In her minds eye she could almost see the tiny foetus smiling. It was really such and amazing experience, that for the first time in a long while, Hannah was grateful for her gifts.

On the way to Guymon the trio chattered amiably about banal things, each seeming to avoid the topic that was most on their mind. Hannah watched the farmland that stretched out on either side of the main road between Goodwell and Guymon. She had driven this road several times before, but she had never taken the time to look at the scenery. As a passenger she could admire the beauty that was at the essence of this very working class town in America.

She looked on as farmer's worked blissfully unaware that out there was evil and that the only thing standing between that evil and their idyllic lives were the Winchester brothers and a handful of dedicated others. Thoughts of the Winchester brothers bought memories of Dean to Hannah and almost instinctively she reached to him with her mind.

She felt Sam's presence near him, she knew he was also aware of her, and although his defences were alert and his mind locked down tight, she could still feel his general concern for Dean. When Hannah turned her consciousness to Dean, she felt fear, not for himself, but a fear and concern for her that bordered on terror. It was so acute it bought an acrid taste to her mouth.

'_I'm alright'_ she said to him in that silent voice of her mind, and she felt his tension release, like he had been holding his breath until he heard from her. Immediately, to confirm her words, she sent him a flood of warmth and comfort.

**

* * *

Just Outside Elwood, Nebraska – 2:17pm**

Dean exhaled slowly, allowing himself to get lost in the sense of relief that feeling the Doc gave him. When he breathed in again, he could almost smell her perfume and the idea bought a smile to his face. She spoke to him, of her 'interview' with the federal agents and while she imparted it to him, he had the strongest impression that she found the whole thing highly humorous, particularly when she bought up the mug shots.

At one point she faltered slightly, but she assured him that was just because she was tired. She left him with a promise to call him that evening and as he felt her presence slide from his mind, he was almost certain he felt the press of soft lips against his cheek.

Instinctively Dean bought his hand up to his cheek, surprised at how real the sensation had felt. He glanced at Sam, who kept his eye very determinedly on the road. He could see in his brother's face that Sam knew the Doc had just made contact with him, but to his credit Sam kept a wise silence.

Once again the Doc had put her life on the line for Dean and Sam, and nothing could had galvanised the notion that severing all ties with the Doc to protect her more, than the sudden appearance of Hendrickson.

The man was obsessed with the brothers now. Dean had seen it on his face, when they had stood toe to toe at the door of the Diner. There was a look on his face that Dean recognised. He had seen it in his father, he saw it in Sam, hell he saw it when he looked in the mirror. It was one of grim determination, of unwavering dedication, a focus that would never be broken until he achieved his goal and his goal was to bring down the Winchesters. And now Hendrickson had the Doc on his radar too.

Dean would never forgive himself if anything happened to the Doc, so he was determined that when he spoke to her tonight, he would be doing it for the last time. His sudden sense of relief was quickly replaced by a deep sense of grief. It would certainly be the hardest thing he had ever done, and now with Hendrickson in the mix, he really had no choice.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**302-Days**

**Guymon, Oklahoma – 2:30pm**

As the car slowed Hannah opened her eyes, sensing the sudden change. Once again she was in the familiar streets of Guymon. This town was a much larger town than Goodwell and the bustling main road was testament to that. Hannah directed Ruthie where to go and with the knowledge of a local, Ruthie found a parking space near the rental car centre.

Hannah opened the door and got on onto the sidewalk, hurrying forward to help Abe out of the car. Once the old man was settled on the sidewalk, she helped Ruthie pull her bags out of the trunk, until she stood facing the two strangers who had helped her.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you." She said and she sincerely felt it.

Ruthie looked uncomfortable by the sentiment, but Abe just smiled kindly at her. Hannah took Abe's hands in her own and as she lent down to kiss him on the cheek, she flooded his body with warmth, using a subtle form of her pyrokenesis. She held herself still for a moment, directing all of the warmth to the joints in his hands and legs. She smiled as she heard him audibly sigh at the sudden relief that she had bought to his aching joints. When she stood back he was still smiling, but his cloudy eyes were moist.

Then Hannah leaned forward and hugged Ruthie. Usually Hannah was not a demonstrative person, certainly not with virtual strangers, but she wanted to speak to Ruthie and the tight embrace gave her the opportunity.

"I can't tell you wether or not your husband is cheating on you. But I felt the presence of your son, and he will be a beautiful, open, loving boy. One who will make you very proud."

Ruthie gasped slightly at Hannah's whispered words, but said nothing. When Hannah stepped back, she could still sense concern in Ruthie, but her words had given the pretty young waitress a new focus and resolve.

"If you or Dean are ever in the neighbourhood, feel free to stop by. There will always be a place at my table for you." said Abe and as he shuffled back to the car, Hannah noticed the old man had more movement in his legs and reflexively closed and opened his hands as if the ability to do so was a real novelty.

Hannah stood on the sidewalk and waited until they drove off, then she went about organising another car. She was still determined to see Amelia's family and then she thought she might go home for a while. She was tired and she missed her cottage by the sea.

**

* * *

Oelrich, South Dakota – 8:42pm**

It was nearly 9 o'clock when the brothers pulled into the city limits of Oelrich. Thankfully, Bobbie's cabin was only about 10 miles outside of town. Both Sam and Dean were bone weary, tired and hungry. They had pushed hard stopping only for gas or to change drivers. Dean drove now feeling one hundred percent better since hearing from the Doc. But with that relief had come a terrible anticipation, he expected her to call at any moment soon and when she did, he would have to explain that they could no longer be in contact.

As if his thoughts had prompted it, Dean's phone buzzed with life, where is sat in his lap as he drove. Sam looked at him briefly, but said nothing as his brother pulled the car over and got out to take the call.

Dean leant against the back of the Impala, ignoring the cool night air.

"Hey Doc" he said as he answered the phone "Where are you?"

"I'm in a hotel in Wichita" she said, her voice sounding low and sultry.

"Are you alright?" he asked, feeling like her accent was crawling underneath his skin.

"I'm a little sore." She said lightly "But it's nothing that a good chiropractor and a long hot bath won't fix."

Her words bought the image of her in a bath to his mind and Dean felt his crotch swell and press at the zip of his jeans. He almost groaned, but he resisted. Why was he doing this to himself, when he knew he would never see her again, never be able to taste her or hold her. As soon as his thoughts turned to that, the fire in his belly died almost as abruptly as it had started.

"Where are you?" she asked easily, but Dean didn't feel easy about letting her know. To ensure her safety, he would keep his location from her. If she really wanted to find him, he knew she could. She had done so before, but he had to do everything within his power.

"We're somewhere safe." He said vaguely and was grateful when the Doc didn't press him on it.

"Look Doc." He said and as he spoke his mouth dried up, making it feel like his throat was made of sandpaper. "Sam and I need to lie low for a while until the heat dies down. So I won't be in contact with you."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone and the weight of it felt so heavy on his chest he thought that any moment his chest would implode.

"For how long?" Hannah asked in a gentle tone, but he could tell that she already knew his answer.

"For good Doc." He said thinking his words sounded hollow and without conviction. "It isn't safe for you, particularly now that Hendrickson knows who you are"

"It wasn't safe for me before Dean" she argued lightly "What do you think has changed?"

Dean sighed, she sounded so reasonable, even slightly amused by his sentiment, but it was killing him here and he needed to end it quickly. "It just seems Doc, that every time our paths cross, Sam and I bring down some horrible danger and you end up getting hurt because of it. If something happened to you, I just don't think I could live with it."

Dean took a ragged breath. He knew he sounded like he was pleading, but he had to make her understand.

"Dean, this is a war" Hannah said, "There are bound to be casualties."

"But this isn't your war Doc." Dean pushed out "Please, just let me go out there to fight it knowing that I kept at least one person safe."

There was a long pause and he heard Hannah's gentle exhalation of breath. He said a silent prayer that she wasn't crying. If she cried, that would be the end of him.

"Alright Dean" Hannah said her voice sounding slightly disappointed, but there was also and air of understanding to it. "But let me just leave you with this one thought. Whether we had ever met, or not, I still have the grimoires at the cottage and your demon horde would still be running loose. What do you think would have happened if I'd had to protect the grimoires by myself?"

Dean shut his eyes, half of him wanted to cling to that logic and tell her he was making a terrible mistake, but the other half of him kept replaying seeing her car careening into Hendrickson's like is was on a film loop in his head.

"I'm sorry Doc." he said quietly, his voice nearly failing him "But this is the way it has to be."

There was a long pause, and after a while Dean was tempted to say something to check if she was still on the phone, but finally she spoke and her voice was so soft and pure and clear.

"Well take care of yourselves. You know how to find me if you ever need me."

Dean's heart felt like lead in his chest, hearing the quiet acceptance in her voice.

"We will Doc." He replied, but he couldn't apply any emotion to it, he felt numb like he was dying inside.

He heard the click of the phone and it was like a door slamming in his face. Dean scrubbed his face roughly with his hand and then walked around to the driver's door and slid in next to where his brother waited.

Sam watched him get into the car, with pity in his eyes.

"It's for the best Dean."

Dean looked at his brother when he spoke, but he couldn't even feel anger towards him. He felt nothing; all he wanted to do was put his head down and sleep.

"Just leave me be for a minute Sam." said Dean flatly.

Sam shifted in his seat turning his body towards Dean, as the older Winchester started the car.

"I know that must have been really tough on you, and I just wanted to say, if you need to talk about it, I'm here for you."

Dean didn't turn to look at his brother, couldn't quite work up the will to make even that slight gesture.

"You're not exactly high up in my good books at the moment. I know we're brothers and blood is thicker than water and all that, but right now just shut the fuck up and let me be."

Sam shifted back in his seat, not seeming to take offence at Dean's words. Perhaps because they were said in such an emotionless monotone, maybe because he had learnt a little wisdom from their interlude last night or maybe because he pitied his brother at the moment. Whatever the reason, Dean didn't care. He just wanted to make it to the cabin and crawl into bed.

Dean drove to the hunting cabin almost on auto pilot. He navigated the dark dirt roads to Bobby's cabin, with skill, but in truth, if he had slammed his car into a tree, he wouldn't have cared too much right at this moment. The only thing that probably saved them was Sam sitting in the seat beside him.

When they pulled up, Sam got out and went hunting for the key in the place where Bobby had told them he had hidden it. Dean drove the Impala into the small shed next to the cabin to get it out of sight.

There was barely enough room for him to open the door enough to get out, but flattening his body, Dean pushed himself out then went to the trunk and pulled out the gear that they would need.

Sam had turned the lights on in the small cabin and if Dean was in a different mindset, the small wooden cabin would have looked welcoming in the darkness of the woods that surrounded it. But as it was Dean just walked into the cabin, dropped Sam's duffle at his feet and tuned and strode into one of the two small bedrooms without a word.

Dean closed the door behind him and dropped his duffle at the end of the bed. He didn't bother putting linen on the bed he just slumped onto it, pressing his face into the pillow that had a slight mildewy smell. He still had his coat and boots on but he didn't care, he just reached down and pulled he heavy scratchy woollen blanket folded at the end of the bed up and over his body.

When he closed his eyes, he replayed his conversation with the Doc in his head. He heard every nuance in her voice, the subtle disappointment and the quiet acceptance. He had known from the way she had said goodbye that she would never try and contact him again and he had vowed to himself that he would keep her safe and stay true to his intentions.

As he allowed the weariness to seep into his mind, he allowed his thoughts to wander. Closing his eyes he wondered what it would be like if the Doc was here in the bed with him and immediately he felt warmth behind him that flowed through his back pooling in the pit of his stomach.

The stale smell of mildew was replaced by the subtle scent of her skin. Dean had always thought that the spicy sent the Doc had was in the perfume that she wore, but he had discovered when he kissed her, that it was not perfume but rather a quality of her skin. Even her lips had tasted of spice when he kissed her.

When he felt a hand stroke down his arm and back, he knew he must be dreaming, but he didn't care. The sent of her and the feel of her warmth spreading through him were all consuming and he was more than happy to loose himself in this fantasy.

His shirt seemed to melt off him and he felt warm porcelain skin caress his own, the contact making him close his eyes simply revelling in the sensation of it. He rolled onto his back and felt the sensation of knuckles and fingers being trailed sensuously up his chest. Once they reached his shoulders, they returned the way they had come, but this time warm palms were flush against his skin.

Dean allowed a smile to tug at his lips, just enjoying the ministration of flesh against flesh. He felt increased weight across his legs as the Doc straddled his thighs and her proximity to his nether regions made all of the blood rush from his head down to his cock.

Dean opened his eyes and smiled at her. She sat astride him weary only a flimsy pair of panties and a silk camisole that clung to the curve of her body and rippled as she moved. Her hair fell about her shoulder in cascades of silken fire and her eyes glowed a warm quicksilver.

This had nothing to do with demons or powers; the light he saw in her eye was a raw sensuality that warmed the silver of her irises until it all but burned him. She continued to stroke her hands up and down he chest smiling down at him, when she lingered around his taut nipples, a mischievous grin tugged at her lips.

Dean's hands itched to touch her. While being administered too was one of the most erotic things he had ever experienced, he knew it was only half of the experience. He ran his hand up the softness of the thighs that were curled up on either side of his body. He allowed his thumb to drag along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and he watched as the closer he got to her mons the more she arched her back.

Her unconscious reaction was more of an aphrodisiac than anything Dean had experienced in his life and his cock, swelled against the rigid restraint of his jeans almost painfully.

Rather than touching her heated mound, Dean continued to run his hands up her body until his fingers touched to the soft skin on her belly. It was a strange sensation, because his hands had disappeared under the silk of her camisole and he could feel silk on both sides of them, it was a toss up which was softer, her skin or the gentle folds of her camisole, but as Dean let his fingertips travel up her body, he dragged the camisole up with him, exposing her creamy skin inch by inch.

When he couldn't reach any further, the Doc caught the edge of her camisole and pulled it over her head, and the sight of her full heavy breast made Dean inhale sharply. She sat over him immobile for a second allowing his eyes to travel over her body and then with a languid motion, she leaned forwards and covered his mouth with her own.

Dean was drowning in sensation; the Doc was kissing him, her soft lips gliding over his own. Her hair tumbled all around them and the tips of her breast teased the skin on his chest.

Dean slipped and arm around her back pulling her tighter into him so much so that her breast were pressed firmly into his chest and his erection pushed through his jeans into the curse of her belly.

The Doc had started kissing him, a gentle touch of her lips, her tongue teasing him as it glided across his lips, but that very action was as frustrating as it was pleasurable. Dean wanted her so badly that his passion rose up sharply. He found her gentle caresses not enough to sate the fire that was charging through him, so he took control of the kiss, burying his hand in her hair and holding her head while he could ravage his mouth.

As he kissed her Dean heard a low growling sound, and he realised it was coming from him. In answer, the Doc made a soft mewl in the back of her throat that only managed to inflame Dean further. Dean kissed her harder, desperate for the feel of her and every demand he made of her she seemed to answer. Dean broke of the kiss for a moment, sucking in desperate breathes of air as he looked up at her, she smiled ever so slightly as her breath came in ragged pants.

There was a passion that hid behind the cool exterior of this woman, and Dean was eager to find it, again he bought his lips to hers in a desperate kiss, which was as demanding as it was pleading. It felt almost like he would never get close enough to her.

With deliberate force, the Doc broke the kiss, pushing herself up into a seated position as she pushed back the mass of wild hair from around her face. Her heavy breasts swayed at her actions, and Dean felt a desperate need to touch them. But the Doc didn't let him; she was already reaching with her long fingers to the fastening of his jeans.

With the greatest of care the Doc opened his jeans and shimmied slightly to drag his jeans and boxers over his hips to allow his heavy erection to spring free. The Doc worked his jeans down as far as she could, and then with a few strategic kicks of his legs, the jeans and boxers were unceremoniously dumped at the foot of the bed.

The only thing that separated them now was the Doc's fussy lace panties. Dean had no patience to wrestle them off her, so with a strong tug; he tore the delicate fabric and sent it soaring across the room.

The Doc put her hands on Deans should and rocked forward with her hips running her feminine flesh over Dean's rigid length. His cock slid easily along her slick folds, but she wouldn't let him enter her, she just tormented him with sensation of silk sliding across his aching erection.

Dean had to close his eyes, the sensation was so intense. He gritted his teeth when he heard the Doc's little gasp of pleasure, and while it felt wonderful, it was not quite enough for Dean. His eye flashed open, passion making his normal hazel eyes glow with an inner amber fire.

With firm fingers her gripped the curve of the Doc's hip and held her still, while he positioned the head of his shaft just in her folds. They paused for a moment, both watching the other, holding their breaths until Dean surged forward.

He felt his cock push through the warm tight folds of her body and there was so much ecstasy that it bordered on pain. As he entered her he heard the Doc's keening cries and he felt himself lengthen and throb in response. When he was seated to the hilt, Dean didn't move he just looked up at the Doc for a moment revelling in the sensation of her tight body around his.

With a sensual slow movement, the Doc bought both hands up to push her mane of her back, the action maker her move lithely against Dean. It was an unconscious movement, but the resulting burst of pleasure had Dean moaning from deep within his chest.

Then with infinite slowness, the Doc changed her position again, this time leaning down and brushing her lips across his hungry mouth. She arched her back to that her breasts pushed firmly against him, and Dean felt the muscles of her sheath contract at the contact between their bodies.

Wrapping his arms around her tightly, Dean held her to him as he began to stroke in and out of her. Small subtle movements at first, then longer harder strokes as their passion grew. When their position prevented Dean deeper penetration, the Doc sat up over his shaft, rolling her hips with each stroke he made.

Dean's fingers bit into the flesh at the Doc's hips as he watched her ride him with passion filled abandon. Her head was thrown back, showing the delicate curve of her throat, and her breast swayed with every movement.

When Dean, heard her moan and grab on to his forearms, he almost lost control, but he stilled his rising passion not wanting this to ever end. She was so tight, and hot she was nearly branding him with her heat, but he would gladly go up in flames if this was the pleasure he got from it. She rode him hard, alternating her rhythm until he felt the muscles surrounding him quiver slightly and then she clamped down on him hard. His cock felt like it had been put in a velvet vice and he could no longer hold his own orgasm back, pounding into her one last time as he emptied himself deep within her.

Her after shocks pulled at him, milking him dry, and then he felt her weight above him, the warmth of her breast as she enclosed him in a desperate embrace. She kissed each of he cheeks, running her hands gently through his hair. Dean was happy not moving, just feeling each of the different sensations that she bought to him. He felt languid and happy and as she kissed down his jaw, he felt her breath tickle his ear.

"Don't leave me." She whispered gently and touched her lips to the sensitive skin by his ear.

Dean's eyes flicked open and the room was dark. He was alone in his cold bed and to add insult to injury, he could feel the wet patch of semen on the front of the jeans he was still wearing. Dean slumped back in the bed, bagging the mattress hard with his fist in frustration. Left to its own devices, his mind had gone for the one thing he wanted most in the world but could never have. Dean rolled over ignoring the discomfort of his soiled jeans and dragged the blanket back up over himself. Thinking of the Doc was torturous, but he discovered than not thinking of her was pure hell.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – A Little Corner of Nowhere**

**301-Days**

**Oelrich, South Dakota – 2:54 am**

Sam walked down the long corridor of endless doors feeling at home in the bizarre construct that was his psyche. Opening one door he saw, a massive stairwell that wound its way around a tall tunnel of light like some intricate Celtic knot. On the floor above him Mary Winchester stood looking down at him over the banister of the stair well.

As soon as she saw him she smiled a little and waved at him. Sam smiled back, and using his long legged strides he climbed the stairs two at a time.

"Hey Mom." He said and she kissed him on the cheek when he drew near.

"Hey Sweetie" said Mary Winchester fondly holding her son's face captive between her hand for a moment, while she studied it.

"You certainly look better than last night. I take it Dean came back?"

"Yeah" said Sam leaning and looking over the banister into the bottomless stairwell. "It all seems like a really long time ago now."

"Really?" Mary asked laying a gentle hand on her son's arm "Why?"

Sam looked at his mother's face, her eyes so open and interested.

"You remember I told you that we got picked up by the FBI while we were doing the job at Folsom?"

"Sure" said Mary, giving same a slight pat on the arm to encourage him.

"Well the same FBI agent from that, found us in Goodwell. We barely got away from him."

Mary Winchester's sharp intake of breath showed her distress at the news.

"Are you alright, what happened?" she questioned slightly breathless from her shock.

Sam took his mother by the arm and guided her to the stairs where they could sit down. All the while he explained how Dean had returned, and while making a short stop in town, Dean had come face to face with Hendrickson. He also went on to relate that it was Hannah who had provided enough of a diversion for them to get away. Sam watched as Mary's face went from horrified concern to narrowed eye suspicion, but she said nothing as Sam related the whole tale to her.

Noting the look on his mother's face, Sam stopped speaking. "What? What is it Mom?"

Immediately Mary Winchester tried to shake the suspicion from her face, but she couldn't hide it from her eyes.

"No it's nothing Sam."

"Come on Mom." said Sam, nudging her with his elbow slightly

"No it's just…." Mary turned to look him squarely in the face "Don't you think it is a little coincidental that the FBI agent that knew who you were, would be the same guy to show up in a small town in Oklahoma, and the only reason that you got away was because of this woman. I mean there are so many coincidences about what you've told me, it just seems contrived somehow."

Sam looked at his mother, who had voiced something that he had buried deep in his own mind for Dean's benefit.

"I know what Dad would have thought." said Sam resting his chin in his hands as he considered the implications of what his mother was saying.

"Your father didn't believe in coincidences." Said Mary, gently rubbing Sam's back.

"But if Hannah did set all of this up, what's her motive, what is she trying to achieve? That still bugs me."

"Getting between you and your brother isn't reason enough?" asked Mary, her golden eyebrows arching high in question.

"Well if that was her plan then it back fired?" said Sam staring at the deep claret carpet that covered the stairs that stretched out beneath him. "Dean is still pretty pissed with me, but because of what happened in Goodwell, he was worried about Hannah's safety so he told her he couldn't be in contact with her."

"And how did she take that news?" asked Mary Winchester her keen interest making her words slightly hurried.

Sam studied his mother for a brief moment. "I don't know? But Dean was pretty torn up about it, so I can only assume that she agreed."

Mary Winchester rocked back on the stair that she was sitting on and took a deep breath considering her son's words.

"Well at least this will be a good test?" she said almost to herself.

"Test for what?" questioned Sam studying his mother's face.

"If this woman really cares for Dean and has no other ulterior motives, then she would probably respect his wishes and try not to contact him again. If, on the other hand, she had some other motive, she'll probably try and contact Dean and bring the both of you back into situations that she can influence."

"You think?" said Sam, wondering when Mary Winchester had become so calculating.

Mary shrugged trying to make the gesture nonchalant. "I'm really just speculating here Sam. I just know how your father felt about coincidences and I'm just trying to rationalise it as he would have."

Sam felt a subtle disturbance at the edge of consciousness, he was becoming highly attuned to all of the nuances of this place and he felt the presence almost immediately. He stood, tucking his mother's body behind his much larger one, when she followed him to his feet.

"Come out Mike" Sam said in a hard voice "I know you there."

Out of the shadows on the floor below, a figure immerged, almost seeming to materialise out of the darkness. Sam knew this creature, is had taken on the visage of a man that they had saved in Rhode Island, but Sam was under no illusions that this being was not the man, bit rather something just borrowing a familiar appearance.

Mike walked forward into the light of the stairwell and allowed the light to fall across his smiling face.

"How's it going Sam" he said with a friendly smile "Long time no see huh?"

Sam didn't answer for a moment, just looking into the features of the young man's visage.

"We banished Thammuz." Sam finally said, not wishing to elaborate on the story again.

"I know, and the loss of his lieutenant has hit Beleth pretty hard." said Mike , walking around so that he stood at the bottom of the stair well, where Sam and Mary Winchester stood.

"But he will make another play for power" said Mike, pulling at a loose corner of wallpaper on the wall he leaned his hip against. "It's in his nature."

"It's in all your natures." said Sam harshly, but Mike seemed to ignore the tone of Sam's words and smiled up at him.

"Yeah, I guess it is." he conceded with a smile.

"Why are you here Mike?" asked Sam looking at the man at the bottom of the stairs.

Mike smiled a Cheshire cat grin, which made the hairs on Sam's arms stand on end.

"With Thammuz gone, the role of Beleth's lieutenant had fallen to a demon named Rimmon. I heard it on the grapevine that Rimmon is making a stronghold in Spokane and is gathering other lesser demons to him."

Sam studied Mike with narrowing eyes.

"Why should I give a crap Mike?"

Mike's eyebrows rose in surprise at Sam's answer.

"Well if I'm not mistaken, you do hunt down demons for a living, don't you?"

"The only problem is" said Sam sinking down to the step "you keep feeding me the names of the demons in Beleth's camp, what about the other side, this as yet unnamed player?"

Mike looked slightly stunned for a moment, but covered it up rapidly "I'm sorry Sam, I'm trying to find out but, I don't have the contacts yet to get a name."

"But you seem to have no problems with finding out the inner workings of Beleth's activities…Why is that Mike? Because it seems to me, that the only thing protecting humanity is the demons inability to organise behind one leader. If I keep undermining Beleth, then I leave the door wide for Mr Anonymous."

Sam smiled at the young man, but it was more menacing than anything else "What did you do Mike, make a deal with Beleth's enemy? Get yourself a nice cushy little position in the up and coming regime?"

Mike straightened looking slightly uncomfortable. "I swear Sam; I have no idea who this player is, let alone having made a deal with them."

Sam almost snarled at Mike "The word of a demon doesn't carry too much weight with me Mike. Try shovelling that shit elsewhere."

"Look Sam" protested Mike his voice rising in agitation "The only reason why I know what is going on with Beleth is because occasionally I do some work for him, but to be perfectly frank I hate the motherfucker. That's all! If you don't want my intel, then ignore it because frankly I don't give a shit anymore."

Mike pushed himself off the wall and stormed to open a door at the far end of the corridor

"You know Sam, I have done nothing but help you, feed you intel, bring your Mom to you, and every time you see me you give me shit for it. Have you ever considered that just like people, not all demons are the same."

With that Mike disappeared through the door, merging with the darkness beyond. His exit punctuated with the slamming of the door.

Sam watched him as he left, considering his words. Despite all of his misgivings about the creature, Sam felt a subtle sense of guilt about going off at him. All of his tips had been spot on to date, but Sam was positive that he and Dean were being manoeuvred like pieces on a chess board, but for the first time Sam considered the possibility that Mike may be like them, just another pawn on the table.

He looked to where his mother stood her face grave as she met his eye.

"What will you do?" she asked her voice gentle but concerned.

"I don't know" said Sam, knowing that he would need to discuss it with Dean.

**

* * *

296 - Days**

**Newport, Rhode Island – 3:07 pm**

As the taxi pulled up the long driveway to the cottage, Hannah let out a long sigh of relief. She was never so grateful to be coming home in all her life. It still unnerved her to see a man with an automatic weapon standing guard on her front porch, but Adam had insisted that they keep a couple of his security friends around to protect the cottage.

Hannah had agreed, but she had bargained him down from his original four to only two men. Adam had moved into the main cottage to keep an eye on things when she wasn't there, so the house would be pretty full, but it would be familiar, and she could start in earnest looking for a means to save Dean.

Hearing the taxi pull up, Adam came out the front and waited until the car had come to a complete stop. When it had, Adam opened the door and helped her out, casting an eagle eye over her to see if she had any injuries of looked ill in anyway. She hadn't seen him since he had left Colorado and she could sense from him that he was still concerned by her wellbeing.

Hannah got out of the car and embraced the older man, greeting him fondly. The last few weeks had been really trying and she was never more grateful for Adam's stalwart loyalty to her than right now. He took her bags from the trunk while she payed the driver and then he took her into the house, where he could fuss over her and feed her and such.

In all honesty, normally Hannah would have hated being fussed over, but the last few days had left her feeling like a ghost of he former self. She had been to see Amelia's parents. It had taken her two days to see them without fear of the cops or the FBI turning up and when she finally did, Ben Coombs had thrown her out onto the street threatening to call the police on her.

It had only been Daisy, Amelia's mother, who had chased after her down the street that had made a difference. Hannah had stood with Amelia's mother in the middle of the street, telling her of her daughter's last thoughts and feelings.

Hannah had tried a few things with her gifts this trip that she had never done previously. The strangest was touching the life essence of Ruthie's baby, and the most heartbreaking was trying to replicate Amelia's last thoughts for her mother, while shielding the woman from the atrocities of Amelia's passing.

Daisy Coombs had wept openly in the street as Hannah held her. They had stood that way for nearly an hour before Ben Coombs had come out and taken his distraught wife inside. While Hannah felt the intensity of Daisy Coomb's grief, she had also felt a relief that Amelia had not died alone and terrified, and that was all Hannah needed to know to confirm that she had done the right thing in seeking them out.

Hannah allowed herself to feel the comfort that her familiar surroundings afforded her. Adam fed her, and then left her to unpack and get cleaned up. After she had changed her clothes, Hannah had walked out to the lower deck outside her study and stood there for a long time looking out at the ocean, thinking about everything that had transpired over the last month.

More often than not her thoughts drifted back to Dean. So far she had respected his wishes and not tried to contact him. She needed to give him the time to realise that this imposed estrangement was not the answer, unfortunately it was a realisation that he would have to come to on his own, in the mean time all Hannah could do was wait.

Sometimes in the darkest hours of the night, Hannah felt Dean reaching for her. Unable to ignore it, Hannah would just touch his mind, never allowing him the knowledge of her presence, but offering him what comfort she could.

Hannah walked back into the house and made her way into her study. She looked at her large mahogany desk as she walked in, but opted to sit down at her beloved piano instead, allowing her fingers to trail over the smoothness of the keys. From some well deep inside her, music began to flow through her touching every muscle and every tendon until her fingers were moving almost of their own accord.

The tune was one that she knew intimately, it had been Michael's favourite and she found playing it gave her the deepest sense of comfort, like somewhere wherever Michael was, she was is some way connected to him again. As she lost herself in the music, Hannah narrowed her thoughts to only the tones of the keys that her finger struck. The shields that she had been working to strengthen ever since Colorado, all but fell away and she left herself completely open to the pure sensation of her music.

As soon as they were all the way down, Hannah felt a presence with her and her head snapped up as abruptly as the sound died in the body of the piano. Hannah looked around the room knowing that the presence could not have been malicious in any way. The ward at the gate and the various spells she had throughout the house would have prevented a spirit that intended her harm from entering.

Conscious now of the presence, Hannah reached out with all of her senses looking for it. It was in the room with her and when she touched it the feelings she got from it was like Dean's energy and yet there were differences about it.

"Dean?" Hannah whispered, and as if in answer she felt the presence pulse with a brief burst of strength.

Hannah studied the energy a little more closely. It felt weak, as if it were having trouble sustaining its own existence, and if she had not dropped her shields she was positive she would never have felt it.

Cautiously Hannah fed the presence a little of her own energy, trying to give it enough so that she could see what sort of signature it was. It felt for all the world exactly like Dean did, but there was also differences about it, a hardness about the edges that Hannah had never felt in Dean's energy.

With the new influx of energy, Hannah saw a figure appear in front of her, at this stage it was formless light, but it was a distinct figure of a human being. As Hannah fed it more and more of her energy, its features began to solidify and she saw the face of a man in his fifties appear before her.

When his facial features took full form, Hannah recognised his eyes. Dean had the same eyes, but she understood now that this wasn't Dean… although it was a Winchester. Hannah sat looking into the face of John Winchester.

"You're John Winchester aren't you?"

The apparition in front of her did not speak, but a smile came to his lips and he nodded once to confirm her question.

"Can you speak?"

Again the apparition of John Winchester gestured with his head, shaking it slowly from side to side.

Hannah's brow furrowed with confusion.

"Why can't you speak?" asked Hannah, feeling suddenly foolish at the futility of her question, but as if in answer, the apparition's energy pulsed bright for a moment then dimmed.

"Do you not have enough energy?"

Again the apparition pulsed as if in affirmation. Carefully Hannah fed the spirit more of her own energy, its appearance becoming stronger, as if it were a flesh and blood human standing in the room with her.

"You're a very guarded woman, Hannah." said the spirit of John Winchester "I've been trying to attract your attention for some time now."

John Winchester had a deep baritone voice, but the words didn't fill the room with noise, they blossomed in Hannah's mind as if they had come from her own internal dialogue. Hannah had to curb her dislike for this method of communication. Talking like this was how she had opened herself up to a demon in the first place; now that John Winchester was speaking to her in such a fashion it really unnerved her.

"What are you doing here?" Hannah asked watching the spirit closely

"I need your help to get to my son." Replied John Winchester again the words forming in Hannah's mind "I know that Sam has come into his powers and I have been trying to contact him, but there is something preventing me from reaching him. I'm afraid my boys are in danger."

Hannah dropped her head and shook it slightly "I 'm not sure what I can do for you John. Sam doesn't like me very much, he won't listen to me."

John Winchester smiled "No" he said his voice fading slightly "But Dean will."

* * *


End file.
